CONTENTS 

CHAPTER  PAGE 

I.     PHYLLIS 9 

II.     THE  NESTER 18 

III.  CAUGHT  RED-HANDED 28 

IV.  "FM    A    RUSTLER    AND    A    THIEF, 

AM!?" 43 

V.      AN  AIDER  AND  ABETTOR     ....  53 

VI.     A  GOOD  FRIEND 76 

VII.     A  SHOT  FROM  AMBUSH     ....  84 

VIII.        MlSS   GoiNG-ON-ElGHTEEN       .       .       .    IO3 

IX.  PUNISHMENT        117 

X.  INTO  THE  ENEMY'S  COUNTRY     .     .  126 

XL  TOM  DIXON 144 

XII.  THE  ESCAPE 157 

XIII.  A  MISTAKE 168 

XIV.  A  DIFFERENCE  OF  OPINION     .     .     .183 
XV.  THE  BRAND  BLOTTER 200 

XVI.      A  WATERSPOUT 214 

XVII.      THE  HOLD-UP 226 

XVIII.     BRILL  HEALY  AIRS  His  SENTIMENTS  233 
XIX.      THE    ROAN    WITH    THE    WHITE 

STOCKINGS 241 

XX.      YEAGER  RIDES  TO  NOCHES     .     .     .  253 
5 


I 


CONTENTS 


CHAPTER  PAGE 

XXL  BREAKING  DOWN  AN  ALIBI     .     .     .  263 

XXII.      SURRENDER 276 

XXIII.  AT  THE  RODEO 289 

XXIV.  MISSING 296 

XXV.  LARRY  TELLS  A  BEAR  STORY  .     .     .   304 

XXVI.     THE   MAN  HUNT 323 

XXVII.     THE  ROUND-UP 329 


LIST  OF  ILLUSTRATIONS 

PAGE 

The  rider  slewed  in  the  saddle  with  his  whole  attention  upon  pos 
sible  pursuit Frontispiece        33 

She  drew  back  as  if  he  had  struck  her,  all  the  sparkling  eagerness 

driven  from  her  face lid 

"Drop  that  gun!" 205 

They  grappled  in  silence  save  for  the  heavy  panting  that  evidenced 

the  tensioo  of  their  efforts     .......      340 


MAVERICKS 


CHAPTER   I 

PHYLLIS 

Phyllis  leaned  against  the  door-jamb  and  looked 
down  the  long  road  which  wound  up  from  the  valley 
and  lost  itself  now  and  again  in  the  land  waves. 
Miles  away  she  could  see  a  little  cloud  of  dust  trav 
elling  behind  the  microscopic  stage,  which  moved 
toward  her  almost  as  imperceptibly  as  the  minute- 
hand  of  a  clock.  A  bronco  was  descending  the  hill 
trail  from  the  Flagstaff  mine,  and  its  rider  an 
nounced  his  coming  with  song  in  a  voice  young  and 
glad. 

"My  love  has  breath  o'  roses, 

O'  roses,  o'  roses, 
And  cheeks  like  summer  posies 
All  fresh  with  morning  dew," 

* 

floated  the  words  to  her  across  the  sunlit  open. 

If  the  girl  heard,  she  heeded  not.  One  might 
liave  guessed  her  a  sullen,  silent  lass,  and  would 
have  done  her  less  than  justice.  For  the  storm  in 

9 


10 MAVERICKS 


her  eyes  and  the  curl  of  the  lip  were  born  of  a  mood 
and  not  of  habit.  They  had  to  do  with  the  gay 
vocalist  who  drew  his  horse  up  in  front  of  her  and 
relaxed  into  the  easy  droop  of  the  experienced  rider 
at  rest 

"Don't  see  me,  do  you?"  he  asked,  smiling. 

Her  dark,  level  gaze  came  round  and  met  his 
sunniness  without  response, 

"Yes,  I  see  you,  Tom  Dixon." 

"And  you  don't  think  you  see  much  then?"  he 
suggested  lightly. 

She  gave  him  no  other  answer  than  the  one  he 
found  in  the  rigor  of  her  straight  figure  and  the  flash 
of  her  dark  eyes. 

"Mad  at  me,  Phyl?"  Crossing  his  arms  on  the 
pommel  of  the  saddle  he  leaned  toward  her,  half 
coaxing,  half  teasing. 

The  girl  chose  to  ignore  him  and  withdrew  her 
gaze  to  the  stage,  still  creeping  antlike  toward  the 

Ufc. 

"My  love  has  breath  o'  roses, 
O'  roses,  o'  roses," 

he  hummed  audaciously,  ready  to  catch  her  smile 
when  it  came. 

It  <fid  not  come.  He  thought  he  had  never  seen 
her  cany  ker  dusky  good  looks  more  scornfully. 
With  a  movement  of  impatience  she  brushed  back 
a  rebellious  lock  of  blue-black  hair  from  her  temple. 

"Somebody's  acting  right  foolish,"  he  continued 
jauntily.  "It  was  all  in  fun,  and  in  a  game  a*  tfeat." 


MAVERICKS  11! 


"I  wasn't  playing,"  he  heard,  though  the  profile 
did  not  turn  in  the  least  toward  him. 

"Well,  I  hated  to  let  you  stay  a  wall-flower/'        f 

"I  don't  play  kissing  games  any  more,"  she  ia- 
formed  him  with  dignity. 

"Sho,  Phyl!  I  told  you  'twas  only  in  fun,"  be 
justified  himself.  "A  kiss  ain't  anything  to  make 
so  much  fuss  over.  You  ain't  the  first  girl  that  ever 
was  kissed." 

She  glanced  quickly  at  him,  recalling  stories  she 
had  heard  of  his  boldness  with  girls.  He  had  taken 
off  his  hat  and  the  golden  locks  of  the  boy  gleamed 
in  the  sunlight  Handsome  he  surely  was,  though 
a  critk  might  have  found  weakness  in  the  lower  parl 
of  the  face.  Chin  and  mouth  lacked  firmness, 

"So  I've  been  told,"  she  answered  tartly. 

"Jealous?" 

"No,"  she  exploded. 

Slipping  to  the  ground,  he  trailed  his  rein, 

"You  don't  need  to  depend  on  hearing,"  he  said, 
moving  toward  her. 

"What  do  you  mean?"  she  flared. 

"You  remember  well  enough — at  the  social  down 
to  Peterson's." 

"We  were  children  then — or  I  was.** 

"And  you're  not  a  kid  now  ?" 

"No,  I'm  not" 

"Here's  congratulations,  Miss  Sanderson.  You've 
put  away  childish  things  and  now  you  have  become  a 
woman," 


MAVERICKS 


Angrily  the  girl  struck  down  his  outstretched 
hand 

"After  this,  if  a  fellow  should  kiss  you,  it  wotrid 
be  a  crime,  wouldn't  it?"  he  bantered. 

"Don't  you  dare  try  it,  Tom  Dixon,"  she  flashed 
fiercely. 

Hitherto  he  had  usually  thought  of  her  as  a  school 
girl,  even  though  she  was  teaching  in  the  Willow's 
district.  Now  it  came  to  him  with  what  dignity  and 
unconscious  pride  her  head  was  poised,  how  little  the 
home-made  print  could  conceal  the  long,  free  lines 
of  her  figure,  still  slender  with  the  immaturity  of 
youth.  Soon  now  the  woman  in  her  would  awaken 
and  would  blossom  abundantly  as  the  spring  pop 
pies  were  doing  on  the  mountain  side.  Her  sullen 
sweetness  was  very  close  to  him.  The  rapid  rise 
and  fall  of  her  bosom,  the  underlying  flush  in  her 
dusky  cheeks,  the  childish  pout  of  the  full  lips,  all 
joined  in  the  challenge  of  her  words.  Mostly  it  was 
pure  boyishness,  the  impish  desire  to  tease,  that 
struck  the  audacious  sparkle  to  his  eyes,  but  there 
was,  too,  a  masculine  impulse  he  did  not  analyse. 

"So  you  won't  be  friends?" 

If  he  had  gone  about  it  the  right  way  he  might 
have  found  forgiveness  easily  enough.     But  this  did  J 
not  happen  to  be  the  right  way. 

"No,  I  won't"  And  she  gave  him  her  profile 
again. 

"Then  we  might  as  well  have  something  worth 
while  to  quarrel  about,"  he  said,  and  slipping  his 


MAVERICKS  18 


arm  round  her  neck,  he  tilted  her  face  toward 
him. 

With  a  low  cry  she  twisted  free,  pushing  him 
from  her. 

Beneath  the  fierce  glow  of  her  eyes  his  laughter 
was  dashed.  He  forgot  his  expected  trivial  triumph, 
for  they  flashed  at  him  now  no  childish  petulance, 
but  the  scorn  of  a  woman,  a  scorn  in  the  heat  of 
which  his  vanity  withered  and  the  thing  he  had  tried 
to  do  stood  forth  a  bare  insult. 

"How  dare  you!"  she  gasped. 

Straight  up  the  stairs  to  her  room  she  ran, 
turned  the  lock,  and  threw  herself  passionately  on 
the  bed.  She  hated  him  ...  hated  him  .  .  . 
hated  him.  Over  and  over  again  she  told  herself 
this,  crying  it  into  the  pillows  where  she  had  hidden 
her  hot  cheeks.  She  would  make  him  pay  for  this 
insult  some  day.  She  would  find  a  way  to  trample 
on  him,  to  make  him  eat  dirt  for  this.  Of  course 
she  would  never  speak  to  him  again — never  so  long 
as  she  lived.  He  had  insulted  her  grossly.  Her 
turbulent  Southern  blood  boiled  with  wrath.  It  was 
characteristic  of  the  girl  that  she  did  not  once  think 
of  taking  her  grievance  to  her  hot-headed  father  or 
to  her  brother.  She  could  pay  her  own  debts  with 
out  involving  them.  And  it  was  in  character,  too, 
that  she  did  not  let  the  inner  tumult  interfere  with 
her  external  duties. 

As  soon  as  she  heard  the  stage  breasting  the  hill, 
she  was  up  from  the  bed  as  swift  as  a  panther  and 


'14  MAVERICKS 


at  her  dressing-table  dabbing  with  a  kerchief  at  the 
telltale  eyes  and  cheeks.  Before  the  passengers  be 
gan  streaming  into  the  house  for  dinner  she  was 
her  competent  self,  had  already  cast  a  supervising 
eye  over  Becky  the  cook  and  Manuel  the  waiter,  to 
see  that  everything  was  in  readiness,  and  behind  the 
official  cage  had  fallen  to  arranging  the  mail  that 
had  just  come  up  from  Noches  on  the  stage. 

From  this  point  of  vantage  she  could  cast  an  oc 
casional  look  into  the  dining-room  to  see  that  all 
was  going  well  there.  Once,  glancing  through  the 
window,  she  saw  Tom  Dixon  in  conversation  with 
a  half-grown  youngster  in  leathers,  gauntlets,  and 
spurs.  A  coin  was  changing  hands  from  the  older 
boy  to  the  younger,  and  as  soon  as  the  delivery  win 
dow  was  raised  little  Bud  Tryon  shuffled  in  to  get 
the  family  mail  and  that  of  Tom.  Also  he  pushed 
through  the  opening  a  folded  paper  evidently  torn 
from  a  notebook. 

"This  here  is  for  you,  Phyl,"  he  explained. 

She  pushed  it  back.    "I'm  too  busy  to  read  it." 

"It's  from  Tom,"  he  further  volunteered. 

"Is  it?" 

She  took  the  paper  quietly  but  with  a  swift,  re 
pressed  passion,  tore  it  across,  folded  the  pieces  to 
gether,  rent  them  again,  and  tossed  the  fragments 
through  the  window  to  the  floor. 

"Do  you  want  the  mail  for  the  Gordons,  too,  Mr. 
Purdy?"  she  coolly  asked  the  next  in  line  over  the 
tow  head  of  Bud. 


MAVERICKS  15 


The  boy  grinned  and  ducked  from  his  place 
through  the  door.  Through  the  open  window  there 
drifted  to  her  presently  the  sound  of  a  smothered 
curse,  followed  by  the  rapid  thud  of  a  horse's  hoofs. 
Phyllis  did  not  look,  but  a  wicked  gleam  came  into 
her  black  eyes.  As  well  as  if  she  had  seen  him  she 
beheld  a  picture  of  a  sulky  youth  spurring  home  in 
dudgeon,  a  scowl  of  discontent  on  his  handsome, 
boyish  face.  He  had  come  down  the  mountain  trail 
singing,  but  no  music  travelled  with  him  on  his  re 
turn  journey.  Nor  had  she  alone  known  this.  With 
out  deigning  to  notice  it,  she  caught  a  wink  and  a 
nod  from  one  vaquero  to  another.  It  was  certain 
they  would  not  forget  to  "rub  it  in"  when  next  they 
met  Master  Tom.  She  promised  herself,  as  she 
handed  out  newspapers  and  letters  to  the  cowmen, 
sheep-herders,  and  miners  who  had  ridden  in  to  the 
stage  station  for  their  mail,  to  teach  that  young  man 
his  place. 

"I'll  take  a  dollar's  worth  of  two's." 

Phyllis  turned  her  head  in  the  slow,  disdainful 
fashion  she  had  inherited  from  her  Southern  an 
cestors  and  without  a  word  pushed  the  sheet  of 
stamps  through  the  window.  That  voice,  with  its 
hint  of  sardonic  amusement,  was  like  a  trumpet  call 
to  battle. 

"Any  mail  for  Buck  Weaver?" 

"No,"  she  answered  promptly  without  looking. 

"Sure?" 

"Yes." 


/ 

16  MAVERICKS 


"Couldn't  be  overlooking  any,  could  you?" 

Her  eyes  met  his  with  the  rapier  steel  of  hostil 
ity.  He  was  mocking  her,  for  his  mail  all  came  to 
Saguaro.  The  man  was  her  father's  enemy.  He 
had  no  business  here.  His  coming  was  of  a  piece 
with  all  the  rest  of  his  insolence.  Phyllis  hated  him 
with  the  lusty  healthy  hatred  of  youth.  She  had 
her  father's  generosity  and  courage,  his  quick  in 
dignation  against  wrong  and  injustice,  and  banked 
within  her  much  of  his  passionate  lawlessness. 

"I  know  my  business,  sir." 

Weaver  turned  from  the  window  and  came  front 
to  front  with  old  Jim  Sanderson.  The  burning 
black  eyes  of  the  Southerner,  set  in  sockets  of  ex 
traordinary  depths,  blazed  from  a  grim,  hostile  face. 
Always  when  he  felt  ugliest  Sanderson's  drawl  be 
came  more  pronounced.  His  daughter,  hearing  now 
the  slow,  gentle  voice,  ran  quickly  round  the  coun- 
tei  and  slipped  an  arm  into  that  of  her  father. 

"This  hyer  is  an  unexpected  pleasure,  Mr. 
Weaver,"  he  was  saying.  "It's  been  quite  some  time 
since  I've  seen  you  all  in  my  house  before,  makin' 
you'self  at  home  so  pleasantly.  It's  ce'tainly  an 
honor,  seh." 

"Don't  get  buck  ague,  Sanderson.  I'm  here  be 
cause  I'm  here.  That's  reason  a-plenty  for  me," 
Weaver  told  him  contemptuously. 

"But  not  for  me,  seh.  When  you  come  into  my 
house ." 

"I  didn't  come  r»to  yottr  house. " 


MAVERICKS  17 


-Why— why " 

"Father!"  implored  the  girL  "It's  a  government 
post-office.  He  has  a  right  here  as  long  as  he  be 
haves." 

"H'm!"  the  old  fire-eater  snorted.  "I'd  be 
obliged  just  the  same,  Mr.  Weaver,  if  you'd  trans 
act  your  business  and  then  light  a  shuck." 

"Dad !"  the  girl  begged. 

He  patted  her  head  awkwardly  as  it  lay  on  his 
arm.  "Now  don't  you  worry,  honey.  There  ain't 
going  to  be  any  trouble — leastways  none  of  my 
making.  I  ain't  a-forgettin'  my  promise  to  you-all. 
But  I  ain't  sirtin'  down  whilst  anybody  tromples  on 
me  neither." 

"He  wouldn't  try  to  do  that  here,"  Phyllis  re 
minded  him. 

Weaver  laughed  in  grim  irony.  "I'm  surely  much 
obliged  to  you  for  protecting  me."  And  to  the 
father  he  added  carelessly:  "Keep  your  shirt  on, 
Sanderson.  I'm  not  trying  to  break  into  society. 
And  when  I  do  I  reckon  it  won't  be  with  a  sheep 
outfit  I'll  trail." 

With  which  parting  shot  he  turned  on  his  heel, 
arrogant  and  imperious  to  the  last  virile  inch  of 
him. 


CHAPTER  II 

THE   NESTER 

With  the  jingle  of  trailing  spur  Buck  Weaver 
passed  from  the  post-office  to  the  porch,  where  pub 
lic  opinion  was  wont  to  formulate  itself  while  wait 
ing  for  the  mail  to  be  distributed.  Here  twice  a 
week  it  had  sat  for  many  years,  had  heard  evidence, 
passed  judgment,  condemned  or  acquitted.  For  at 
this  store  the  Malpais  country  bought  its  ammuni 
tion,  its  tobacco,  and  its  canned  goods ;  and  on  this 
porch  its  opinions  had  sifted  down  to  convictions. 
From  this  common  meeting  ground  the  gossip  of 
Cattleland  was  scattered  far  and  wide. 

Weaver  filled  the  doorway  while  he  drew  on  his 
gauntlets.  He  was  the  owner  of  the  Twin  Star  out 
fit,  the  biggest  cattle  company  in  that  country. 
Nearly  twenty  years  ago,  while  still  a  boy  of  eigh 
teen,  he  had  begun  in  a  small  way.  The  Malpais 
had  been  a  wild  and  lawless  place  then,  but  in  all  the 
turbid  days  that  followed  Buck  Weaver  had  held 
his  own  ruthlessly  by  adroit  manipulation,  shrewd 
sense,  and  implacable  daring.  Some  outfits  he  had 
bought  out ;  others  he  had  driven  away.  Those  that 
survived  were  at  a  respectable  distance  from  him. 

18 


MAVERICKS  19 


Only  the  settlers  in  the  hills  remained  to  trouble 
him.  He  had  come  to  be  the  big  man  of  the  dis 
trict,  dominating  its  social,  business,  and  political 
activities. 

"What's  this  I  hear  about  another  settler  up  on 
'Bear  Creek?"  he  asked  curtly  after  he  had  gathered ' 
up  his  bridle  and  swung  to  the  saddle. 

"That's  the  way  Jim  Budd's  telling  it,  Mr. 
Weaver.  Another  nester  homesteaded  there,"  old 
Joe  Yeager  answered  casually,  chewing  tobacco  with 
a  noncommittal  air. 

"Fine !  There'll  soon  be  a  right  smart  settlement 
up  near  the  headwaters  of  the  creeks,  I  shouldn't 
wonder.  The  cow  business  is  getting  to  be  a  mighty 
profitable  one  when  you  don't  own  any,"  Buck  said 
dryly. 

The  others  laughed,  but  with  small  merriment. 
They  were  either  small  cattle  owners  themselves  or 
range  riders  whose  living  depended  on  the  busi 
ness,  and  during  the  past  two  years  a  band  of  rus 
tlers  had  operated  so  boldly  as  to  have  wiped  out 
the  profits  of  some  of  the  ranchers.  Most  of  them 
disliked  Buck  extremely  for  his  overbearing  ways. 
But  they  did  not  usually  tell  him  so.  On  this  par 
ticular  subject,  too,  they  joined  hand  with  him. 

"You're  dead  right,  Mr.  Weaver.  It  ce'tainly 
must  be  stopped." 

The  man  who  spoke  rolled  a  cigarette  and  lit  it. 
Like  the  rest  he  was  in  the  common  garb  of  the 
plains.  The  broad-brimmed  felt  hat,  the  shiny 


20  MAVERICKS 


leather  chaps,  the  loosely  knotted  bandanna,  were  as 
much  a  matter  of  course  as  the  hard-eyed,  weather- 
beaten  look  that  comes  of  life  under  an  untempered 
sun.  But  Brill  Healy  claimed  a  distinction  above 
his  fellows.  He  was  a  black-haired,  picturesque  fel 
low,  as  supple  as  a  panther,  reckless  and  yet  wary. 

"We'll  have  rustling  as  long  as  we  have  nesters, 
Brill,"  Buck  told  him. 

"If  that's  the  case  we'll  serve  notice  on  the  nest 
ers  to  get  out,"  Healy  replied. 

Buck  grinned.  Indomitable  fighter  though  he  was, 
he  had  been  unable  to  roll  back  the  advancing  tide 
of  settlement.  Here  and  there  homesteaders  had 
taken  up  land  and  had  brought  in  small  bunches  of 
cattle.  Most  of  these  were  honest  men,  others  sus 
pected  rustlers.  But  Buck's  fiat  had  not  sufficed  to 
keep  them  out  They  had  held  stoutly  to  their  ow» 
and — he  suspected — a  good  deal  more  than  their 
own.  Calves  had  been  branded  secretly  and  cows 
killed  or  driven  away. 

"Go  to  it,  Brill,"  Weaver  jeered  "I'm  wishing 
you  all  the  luck  in  the  world." 

He  touched  his  pony  with  the  spur  and  swept  up 
the  road  in  a  cloud  of  white  dust. 

Not  till  he  had  disappeared  did  conversation  re 
new  itself  languidly,  for  Seven  Mile  Ranch  was 
lying  under  the  lethargy  of  a  summery  sun. 

"I  expect  Buck's  got  the  right  of  it,"  volunteered 
a  brawny  youth  known  as  Slim.  "All  you  got  to 
do  is  to  take  up  a  claim  near  a  couple  of  big  outfits 


MAVERICKS  ffl. 


with  easy  brands,  then  keep  your  iron  hot  and 
industrious.  There's  sure  money  in  being  a 
nester." 

Despite  the  soft  drawl  of  his  voice,  he  spoke  with 
bitterness,  as  did  the  others.  Every  day  the  feel 
ing  was  growing  stronger  that  the  rustling  must  be 
stopped  if  they  were  going  to  continue  to  run  cat 
tle.  The  thieves  had  operated  with  a  boldness  and 
a  shrewdness  that  fairly  outwitted  the  ranchers. 
Enough  horses  and  cattle  had  been  driven  across 
the  line  to  stock  a  respectable  ranch.  Not  one  of 
the  established  ranches  had  escaped  heavy  losses ;  so 
heavy,  indeed,  that  the  owners  faced  the  option  of 
going  broke  or  of  exterminating  the  rustlers.  Once 
or  twice  the  thieves  had  nearly  been  caught  red- 
handed,  but  the  leader  of  the  outlaws  had  saved  the 
men  by  the  most  daring  strategy. 

Healy,  until  lately  foreman  of  the  Twin  Star 
outfit,  had  organized  the  ranchmen  as  a  protective 
association.  In  this  he  had  represented  Weaver, 
himself  not  popular  enough  to  cooperate  with  the 
other  ranchmen.  Once  Brill  had  led  the  pursuit 
of  the  rustlers  and  had  come  back  furious  from  a 
long  futile  chase.  For  among  the  cattle  being  driven 
across  to  Sonora  were  five  belonging  to  him. 

Other  charges  also  lay  against  the  hill  outlaws. 
A  stage  had  been  robbed  with  a  gold  shipment  from 
the  Diamond  Nugget  mine.  A  cattleman  had  been 
held  up  and  relieved  of  two  thousand  dollars,  just 
taken  as  part  payment  for  a  sale  of  beef  steers.  The 


£2  MAVERICKS 


sheriff  of  Noches  County,  while  trying  to  arrest  a 
rustler,  had  been  shot  dead  in  his  tracks. 

Brill  Healy  leaned  forward,  gathered  the  eyes  of 
those  present,  and  lowered  his  voice  to  a  whisper. 
"Boys,  this  thing  has  got  to  stop.  I've  sent  for 
Bucky  O'Connor.  If  anybody  can  run  the  coyotes 
to  earth  he  can.  Anyhow,  that's  the  reputation  he's 
got." 

Yeager  nodded.  "Good  for  you,  Brill.  He's 
ce'tainly  got  an  A-one  rep.  as  a  cattle  detective,  and 
likewise  as  a  man  hunter.  When  is  he  coming?" 

"He  writes  that  he's  got  a  job  on  hand  that  will 
keep  him  busy  a  couple  of  weeks,  anyhow.  After 
that  we'll  hear  from  him.  I'm  going  to  drop  every 
thing  else,  if  necessary,  and  stay  right  with  him  on 
this  job  till  he  finishes  it  right,"  Healy  promised. 

"Now  you're  shoutin',  Brill.  Here,  too.  It's 
money  in  our  pocket  to  stop  this  thing  right  now, 
even  if  we  pay  big  for  it.  No  use  jest  sittin'  around 
till  we're  stole  blind,"  assented  Slim. 

"It  won't  cost  us  anything.  Buck,  he  pays  the 
freight  The  waddies  have  been  hitting  him  right 
hard  lately  and  he  figures  it  will  be  up  to  him  to 
clean  them  out.  Course  we  expect  help  from  you 
boys  when  we  call  on  you." 

"Sure.  We'll  all  be  with  you  till  the  cows  come 
home,  Brill,"  nodded  one  little  fellow  called  Purdy. 
He  was  looking  at  a  dust  patch  rising  from  the  Bear 
Creek  trail,  and  slowly  moving  toward  them. 
''What's  the  name  of  this  new  nester,  Jim?" 

'. 


MAVERICKS 


Budd,  by  way  of  being  a  curiosity  on  the  range, 
was  a  fat  man  with  a  big  double  chin.  He  was 
large  as  well  as  fat,  and,  by  queer  contrast,  the 
voice  that  came  from  that  mountain  of  flesh  was  a 
small  falsetto  scarce  above  a  whisper. 

"Didn't  hear  his  name.  Had  no  talk  with  him. 
Hear  he  is  called  Keller,"  he  said. 

"What's  he  look  like?" 

"You-all  can  see  for  yourself.  This  here's  the 
gent  rolling  a  tail  this  way." 

The  little  cloud  of  dust  had  come  nearer  and  dis 
closed  as  its  source  a  rider  on  a  rangy  roan  with 
four  white-stockinged  feet.  Drawing  up  in  front 
of  the  porch,  the  man  swung  himself  easily  from  the 
saddle  and  glanced  around. 

"Evening,  gentlemen,"  he  said  pleasantly. 

Some  nodded  grimly,  some  growled  an  acknowl 
edgment  of  his  greeting.  But  the  lack  of  cordiality, 
the  presence  of  hostility,  could  not  be  doubted.  The 
young  man  stood  at  supple  ease  before  them,  one 
hand  resting  on  his  hip  and  the  other  on  the  saddle. 
He  let  his  unabashed  gaze  travel  from  one  to  an 
other,  understood  perfectly  what  those  expression 
less  eyes  of  stone  were  telling  him,  and,  with  a  little 
laugh  of  light  derision,  trailed  debonairly  into  the 
store. 

"Any  mail  for  Larrabie  Keller?"  he  inquired  of 
the  postmistress. 

The  girl  at  the  window  glanced  incuriously  at  him 
and  turned  to  look.  When  she  pushed  his  letter 


24  MAVERICKS 


through  the  grating  he  met  for  an  instant  a  flash  of 
dark  eyes  from  a  mobile  face  which  the  sun  and 
superb  health  had  painted  to  a  harmony  of  gold  and 
russet,  with  the  soft  glow  of  pink  pushing  through 
the  tan.  The  unexpectedness  of  the  picture  mag 
netized  his  gaze.  Admiration,  frank  and  human, 
shone  from  the  steel-gray  eyes  that  had  till  now 
been  only  a  mask.  Beneath  his  steady  look  she 
flushed  indignantly  and  withdrew  from  the 
window. 

Convicted  of  rudeness,  the  last  thing  he  had 
meant,  Keller  returned  to  the  porch  and  leaned 
against  the  door  jamb  while  he  opened  his  letter. 
His  appearance  immediately  sandbagged  conversa 
tion.  Stony  eyes  were  focused  upon  him  incuri 
ously,  with  expressionless  hostility. 

He  noted,  however,  an  exception.  Another  had 
been  added  to  the  group,  a  lad  of  about  eighteen, 
slim  and  swarthy,  with  the  same  dark  look  of  pride 
he  had  seen  on  the  face  at  the  stamp  window.  It 
was  easy  to  guess  that  they  were  brother  and  sister, 
very  likely  twins,  though  he  found  in  the  boy's  ex 
pression  a  sulky  impatience  lacking  in  hers.  Per 
haps  the  lad  needed  the  discipline  that  life  hammers 
into  those  who  want  to  be  a  law  unto  themselves. 

With  an  insolence  extremely  boyish,  the  lad 
turned  to  Healy.  "I'm  for  running  out  a  few  of 
these  nesters.  We've  got  more  than  we  can  use, 
I  reckon.  The  range  is  overstocked  now — both 


MAVEPICKS  25 


with  them  and  cows.  Come  a  bad  year  and  half  of 
ottr  cattle  will  starve." 

There  was  a  moment  of  surcharged  silence.  Phil 
Sanderson  had  voiced  the  growing-  feeling  of  them 
all,  but  he  had  flung  it  out  as  a  stark  challenge  be- 
i  fore  the  time  was  ripe.  It  was  one  thing  to  resent 
the  coming  of  settlers;  it  was  quite  another  to  set 
themselves  openly  against  the  law  that  allowed  these 
men  to  homestead  the  natural  parks  in  the  hills. 

Brill  Healy  laughed.  "The  fat's  in  the  fire  now, 
sure  enough.  Just  the  same,  I  back  your  play,  Phil." 

He  turned  recklessly  to  the  man  in  the  doorway. 
"You  may  tell  your  friends  up  on  Bear  Creek  that 
we  own  this  range  and  mean  to  hold  it.  We  don't 
aim  to  let  our  cattle  be  starved,  and  we  don't  aim 
to  lie  down  before  rustlers.  Understand?" 

The  nester  smiled,  but  there  was  no  gayety  in 
his  eyes.  They  met  those  of  the  cattleman  with  a 
grip  of  steel,  and  measured  strength  with  him.  Each 
knew  the  other  would  go  the  limit  before  Keller 
made  quiet  answer : 

"I  think  so." 

And  with  that  he  dismissed  the  subject  and  his 
^unfriendly  audience.  With  perfect  ease,  he  read  his 
letter,  pocketed  it,  and  whistled  softly  as  he  impas 
sively  took  stock  of  the  scenery.  Apparently  he 
had  wiped  Public  Opinion  from  his  map,  and  was 
interested  only  in  the  panorama  before  him. 

Seven  Mile  Ranch  lay  rooted  at  the  desert  terrai- 


26  MAVERICKS 


nus  among  the  foothills,  a  gateway  between  the 
mountains  and  the  Malpais  Plain.  Below  was  a 
shimmering  stretch  of  sand  and  cactus  tortured  be 
neath  a  blazing  sun.  Into  that  caldron  with  its 
furnace-cracked  floor  the  sun  had  poured  itself  tor- 
ridly  for  countless  eons.  It  was  a  Sahara  of  mirage 
and  desolation  and  death. 

To  the  left  was  a  flat-topped  mesa  eroded  to  fan 
tastic  mockery  of  some  bastioned  fort.  In  the 
round-topped  hills  behind  it  was  Noches,  fifty  miles 
away.  Beyond  lay  the  tangle  of  hills,  rising  to  the 
saw-toothed  range  now  painted  with  orange  and 
mauve  and  a  hint  of  deepening  purple.  For  dusk 
was  already  slipping  down  over  the  peaks. 

"Mail's  been  open  half  an  hour,  boys,"  Phyllis 
announced  through  the  open  window. 

They  dropped  in  to  the  store,  as  noisy  as  school 
boys,  but  withal  deferential.  It  was  clear  the  young 
postmistress  reigned  a  queen  among  the  younger 
ones,  but  a  queen  that  deigned  to  friendship  with 
her  subjects.  Some  of  them  called  her  Miss  San 
derson,  one  or  two  of  them  Phyllie. 

Among  these  last  was  Healy,  who  appeared  on 
very  good  terms  with  her  indeed.  He  appointed 
himself  a  sort  of  master  of  ceremonies,  and  handed 
to  each  man  his  mail  with  appropriate  jocular  com 
ments  designed  to  embarrass  the  recipient.  He  knew 
them  all,  and  his  hits  were  greeted  with  gay  laugh 
ter.  To  the  man  standing  in  the  doorway  with  his 
back  to  them,  they  seemed  all  one  happy  family — 


MAVERICKS  27 


and  himself  a  rank  outsider.  He  trailed  down  the 
steps  and  swung  himself  to  the  saddle.  As  he  loped 
away  the  sound  of  her  warm,  clear  laughter  floated 
after  him. 


CHAPTER   III 

• 

CAUGHT  RED-HANDED 

From  a  cleft  in  the  hills  two  riders  emerged,  fol 
lowing  a  little  gulch  to  the  point  where  it  widened 
into  a  draw.  The  alkali  dust  of  Arizona  lay  thick 
upon  their  broad-brimmed  Stetsons  and  every  inch 
of  exposed  surface,  but  through  the  gray  coating 
bloomed  the  freshness  of  youth.  It  rang  from  their 
voices,  was  apparent  in  the  modelling  and  carriage 
of  their  figures.  The  young  man  was  sinewy  and 
hard  as  nails,  the  girl  supple  and  wiry,  of  a  slender 
grace,  straight-backed  as  an  Indian  in  the  saddle. 

Just  where  the  draw  dipped  down  into  the  grassy 
park  they  drew  rein  an  instant.  Faint  and  far  a 
sound  drifted  to  them.  Somebody  down  in  the  park 
had  fired  a  rifle 

"I  don't  agree  with  you,  Phil,"  the  girl  said,  pick 
ing  up  the  thread  of  their  conversation  where  they 
had  dropped  it  some  minutes  earlier.  "The  nesters 
have  as  'much  right  here  as  we  have.  They  come 
here  to  settle,  and  they  take  up  government  land. 
Why  shouldn't  they?" 

"Because  we  got  here  first,"  he  retorted  impa 
tiently.  "Because  our  cattle  and  sheep  have  been 

28 


MAVERICKS  29 


feeding-  on  the  land  they  are  fencing.  Because  they 
close  the  water  holes  and  the  creeks  and  claim  they 
are  theirs.  It  means  the  end  of  the  open  range. 
That's  what  it  means." 

"Of  course  that's  what  it  means.  We'll  have  to 
adapt  ourselves  to  it.  You  talk  foolishness  when 
you  make  threats  to  drive  out  the  nesters.  That  is 
the  sort  of  thing  Buck  Weaver  has  been  trying  to 
do.  It's  absurd.  The  law  is  back  of  them.  You 
would  only  come  to  trouble,  and  if  you  did  suc 
ceed  others  would  take  their  places." 

"And  rustle  our  cattle,"  he  added  sullenly. 

"It  isn't  proved  they  are  the  rustlers.  You 
haven't  a  shred  of  evidence.  Perhaps  they  are,  but 
you  should  prove  it  before  you  make  the  charge." 

"If  they  aren't,  who  is?"  he  flared  up. 

"I  don't  know.  But  whoever  it  is  will  be  caught 
and  punished  some  day.  There  is  no  doubt  at  all 
about  that." 

"You  talk  a  heap  of  foolishness,  Phyl,"  he  an 
swered  resentfully.  "My  notion  is  they  never  will 
be  caught.  What  makes  you  so  sure  they  will?" 

They  had  been  riding  down  the  draw,  and  at  this 
moment  Phyllis  looked  up,  to  see  a  rider  silhouetted 
against  the  sky  line  on  the  ridge  above. 

"Oh,  you  Brill!"  she  cried,  with  a  wave  of  her 
quirt. 

The  man  turned,  saw  them,  and  rode  slowly  down. 
He  nodded,  after  the  fashion  of  the  range,  first  to 
the  girl,  and  then  to  her  brother. 


SO  MAVERICKS 


"Morning,"  he  nodded.  "Headed  for  Mesa? 
Here,  too." 

He  fell  in  with  them  and  rode  beside  the  girL 
Presently  they  topped  a  little  hillock,  and  looked 
down  into  the  park.  It  had  about  the  area  of  a  mile, 
and  was  perhaps  twice  as  long  as  broad.  Wooded 
spurs  ran  down  from  the  hills  into  it  here  and  there, 
and  through  the  meadow  leaped  a  silvery  stream. 

"Hello!  Wonder  where  that  smoke  comes 
from?" 

It  was  Healy  that  spoke.  He  pointed  to  a  faint 
cloud  rising  from  a  distance.  Even  before  he  began 
to  speak,  however,  Phyllis  had  her  field  glasses  out, 
and  was  adjusting  them  to  her  eyes. 

"There's  a  fire  there  and  a  man  standing  over 
it,"  she  presently  announced.  "There's  something 
else  there,  too.  I  can't  make  it  out — something 
lying  down." 

The  men  glanced  at  each  other,  and  in  the  meet 
ing  of  their  eyes  some  intelligence  passed  between 
them.  It  was  as  if  the  younger  accused  and  the 
older  sullenly  denied. 

"Lemme  have  the  glasses,"  Phil  said  to  his  sister 
almost  roughly. 

Healy  glanced  at  Phil  swiftly,  covertly,  as  the  lat-x 
ter  adjusted  the  glasses.  "She's  right  about  the  fire 
and  the  man.  I  can  see  as  much  with  my  naked 
eyes,"  he  cut  in. 

The  boy  looked  long,  lowered  the  glasses,  and 
met  his  friend's  eye  with  a  kind  of  shamefaced  hesi- 


MAVERICKS  31 


tation.  But  apparently  he  gathered  reassurance  from 
the  quiet  steadiness  with  which  the  other's  gaze  met 
him.  He  handed  the  glasses  to  Healy.  When  the 
latter  lowered  them  his  face  was  grave,  "There's 
a  man  and  a  fire  and  a  cow  and  a  calf.  When  these 
four  things  meet  up  together,  what  does  it 
mean?" 

"Branding!"  cried  the  girl. 

"That's  right — branding.  And  when  the  cow  is 
dead  what  does  it  mean?"  Brill  asked,  his  eyes  full 
on  Phil. 

"Rustling!"  she  breathed  again. 

"You've  said  it,  Phyl.  We've  got  one  of  them  at 
last,"  he  cried  jubilantly. 

Phil,  hanging  between  doubt  and  suspicion  and 
shame,  brightened  at  the  enthusiasm  of  the  other. 

"Right  you  are,  Brill.  We'll  solve  this  mystery 
once  for  all." 

Healy,  unstrapping  the  case  in  which  lay  his  rifle, 
shot  a  question  at  the  boy.  "Armed,  Phil?" 

The  lad  nodded.  "I  brought  my  six-gun  for  rat 
tlesnakes." 

"Are  you  going  to — to "  cried  Phyllis,  the 

color  gone  from  her  face. 

"We're  going  to  capture  him  alive  if  we  can,  Phyl. 
You/re  to  wait  right  here  till  we  come  bade  You 
may  hear  shooting.  Don't  let  that  worry  you. 
We've  got  the  drop  on  him,  or  will  have.  Nobody 
is  going  to  get  hurt  if  he  acts  sensible,"  Healy  re 
assured. 


32  MAVERICKS 


"Don't  you  move  from  here.  You  stay  right 
where  you  are,"  her  brother  ordered  sharply. 

"Yes,"  she  said,  and  was  aware  that  her  throat 
was  suddenly  parched.  "You'll  be  careful,  won't 
you,  Phil?" 

"Sure,"  he  called  back,  as  he  put  his  horse  at  a, 
canter  to  follow  his  friend  up  the  draw. 

The  sound  of  the  hoofs  died  away,  and  she  was 
alone.  That  they  were  going  to  circle  in  and  out 
among  the  tangle  of  hills  until  they  were  opposite 
the  miscreant,  she  knew,  but  in  spite  of  Brill's  prom 
ise  she  had  a  heart  of  water.  With  trembling  fin 
gers  she  raised  the  glasses  again,  and  focused  them 
on  that  point  which  was  to  be  the  centre  of  the 
drama. 

The  man  was  moving  about  now,  quite  uncon 
scious  of  the  danger  that  menaced  him.  What  she 
looked  at  was  the  great  crime  of  Cattleland.  All 
her  life  she  had  been  taught  to  hold  it  in  horror. 
Bufi  now  something  human  in  her  was  deeper  than 
her  detestation  of  the  cowardly  and  awful  thing  this 
man  had  just  done.  She  wanted  to  cry  out  to  him  a 
warning,  and  did  in  a  faint,  ineffective  voice  that 
carried  not  a  tenth  of  the  distance  between  them. 

She  had  promised  to  remain  where  she  was,  but 
her  tense  interest  in  what  was  doing  drew  her  for 
ward  in  spite  of  herself.  She  rode  along  the  ridge 
that  bordered  the  park,  at  first  slowly  and  then 
quicker  as  the  impulse  grew  in  her  to  be  in  at  the 
finish. 


MAVERICKS  SS 


The  climax  came.  She  saw  him  look  round 
quickly,  and  in  an  instant  his  pony  was  at  the  gallop 
and  he  was  lying  low  on  its  neck.  A  shot  rang  out, 
and  another,  but  without  checking  his  flight.  He 
turned  in  the  saddle  and  waved  a  derisive  hand  at 
the  shooters,  then  plunged  into  a  wash  and  disap 
peared. 

What  inspired  her  she  could  never  tell.  Perhaps 
it  was  her  indignation  at  the  thing  he  had  done,  per 
haps  her  anger  at  that  mocking  wave  of  the  hand 
with  which  he  had  vanished.  She  wheeled  her  horse, 
and  put  it  at  a  canter  down  the  nearest  draw  so  as  to 
try  to  intercept  him  at  right  angles.  Her  heart 
beat  fast  with  excitement,  but  she  was  conscious  of 
no  fear. 

Before  she  had  covered  half  the  distance,  she 
knew  she  was  going  to  be  too  late  to  cut  off  his  re 
treat.  Faintly,  she  heard  the  rhythm  of  hoofs  strik 
ing  the  rocky  bottom  of  the  draw.  Abruptly  they 
ceased.  Wondering  what  that  could  mean,  she  found 
her  answer  presently.  For  the  pounding  of  the  gal 
loping  broncho  had  renewed  itself,  and  closer.  The 
man  was  riding  up  the  gulch  toward  her.  He  had 
turned  into  its  mesquite-Iaced  entrance  for  a  hiding 
place.  Phyllis  drew  rein,  and  waited  quietly  to  con 
front  him,  but  with  a  pulse  that  hammered  the  mo 
ments  for  her. 

A  white-stockinged  roan,  plowing  a  way  through 
heavy  sand,  labored  into  view  round  the  bend,  its 
rider  slewed  in  the  saddle  with  his  whole  attention 


34.  MAVERICKS 


upon  the  possible  pursuit.  Not  until  he  was  almost 
upon  her  did  the  man  turn.  With  a  startled  ex 
clamation  at  sight  of  the  motionless  figure,  he  pulled 
up  sharply.  It  was  the  nester,  Keller. 

"You,"  she  cried. 

"Happy  to  meet  you,  Miss  Sanderson,"  he  told 
her  jauntily. 

His  revolver  slid  into  its  holster,  and  his  hat  came 
off  in  a  low  bow.  White,  even  teeth  gleamed  in  a 
sardonic  smile. 

"So  you  are  a — rustler/'  she  told  him  scornfully. 

"I  hate  to  contradict  a  lady,"  he  came  back,  with 
a  kind  of  bitter  irony. 

She  saw  something  else,  a  deepening  stain  that 
soaked  slowly  down  his  shirt  sleeve. 

"You  are  wounded." 

"Ami?" 

"Aren't  you?" 

"Come  to  think  of  it,  I  believe  I  am,"  he  laughed 
shortly. 

"Badly?" 

"I  haven't  got  the  doctor's  report  yet."  There 
was  a  gleam  of  whimsical  gayety  in  his  eyes  as  he 
added:  "I  was  going  to  find  him  when  I  had  the 
good  luck  to  meet  up  with  you." 

He  was  a  hunted  miscreant,  wounded,  riding  for 
his  life  as  a  hurt  wolf  dodges  to  shake  off  the  pur 
suit,  but  strangely  enough  her  gallant  heart  thrilled 
to  the  indomitable  pluck  of  him.  Never  had  she 
Been  a  mao  who  looked  more  the  vagabond  en- 


MAVERICKS  35 


throned.  His  crisp  bronze  curls  and  his  superb 
shoulders  were  bathed  in  the  sunpour.  Not  once, 
since  his  eyes  had  fallen  on  her,  had  he  looked  back 
to  see  if  his  hunters  had  picked  up  the  lost  trail. 
He  was  as  much  at  ease  as  if  his  whole  thought  at 
meeting  her  were  the  pleasure  of  the  encounter. 

"Can  you  ride?"  she  demanded. 

"I  can  stick  on  a  hawss  if  it's  plumb  gentle. 
Leastways  I've  been  trying  to  for  twenty  years/'  he 
drawled 

Her  impatient  gesture  waved  his  flippancy  aside. 
"I  mean,  are  you  too  much  hurt  to  ride?  I'm  not 
going  to  leave  you  here  like  a  wounded  coyote.  Can 
you  follow  me  if  I  lead  the  way?" 

"Yes,  ma'am." 

She  turned.  He  followed  her  obediently,  but 
with  a  ghost  of  a  smile  still  flickering  on  his  face. 

"Am  I  your  prisoner,  Miss  Sanderson?"  he  pres 
ently  wanted  to  know. 

"I'm  not  thinking  of  prisoners  just  now,"  she  an 
swered  shortly,  with  an  anxious  backward  glance. 

Presently  she  pulled  up  and  wheeled  her  horse, 
so  that  when  he  halted  they  sat  facing  each  other. 

**Let  me  see  your  arm,"  she  ordered. 

Obediently  he  held  out  to  her  the  one  that  hap 
pened  to  be  nearest.  It  was  the  unwounded  one. 
An  angry  spark  gleamed  in  her  eye. 

"This  is  no  time  to  be  fresh.  Give  me  the 
other." 


S6  MAVERICKS 


"Yes,  ma'am."  he  answered,  with  deceptive  meek 
ness. 

Without  comment,  she  turned  back  the  sleeve 
which  came  to  the  wrist  gauntlet,  and  discovered  a 
furrow  ridged  by  a  rifle  bullet.  It  was  a  clean  flesh 
wound,  neither  deep  nor  long  enough  to  cause  him 
trouble  except  for  the  immediate  loss  of  blood.  To 
her  inexperience  it  looked  pretty  bad. 

"A  plumb  scratch,"  he  explained. 

She  took  the  kerchief  from  her  neck,  and  tied  it 
about  the  hurt,  then  pulled  down  the  sleeve  and  but 
toned  it  over  the  brown  forearm.  All  this  she  did 
quite  impersonally,  her  face  free  of  the  least  syn> 
pathy. 

"Thank  you,  ma'am.  You're  a  right  friendly 
enemy." 

"It  isn't  a  matter  of  friendship  at  all.  One 
couldn't  leave  a  wounded  jack  rabbit  in  pain,"  she 
retorted  coldly,  taking  up  the  trail  again. 

There  was  room  for  two  abreast,  and  he  chose  to 
ride  beside  her.  "So  you  tied  me  up  because  it  was 
your  Christian  duty,"  he  soliloquized  aloud.  "Just 
the  same  as  if  I  had  been  a  mangy  coyote  that  was 
*  suffering." 

"Exactly." 

He  let  his  cool  eyes  rest  on  her  with  a  hint  of 
amusement.  "And  what  were  you  thinking  of  do 
ing  with  me  now,  ma'am?" 

"I'm  going  to  take  you  up  to  Jim  Ye*gcr's  mine. 


MAVERICKS  37 


He  is  doing  his  assessment  work  now,  and  he'll 
look  out  for  you  for  a  day  or  two." 

"Look  out  for  me  in  a  locked  room?"  he  wanted 
to  know  casually. 

"I  didn't  say  so.  It  isn't  my  business  to  arrest 
criminals,"  she  told  him  icily. 

His  eyes  gleamed  mischief.  "Is  it  your  business 
to  help  them  to  escape  ?" 

"I'm  not  helping  you  to  escape.  I'll  not  risk 
^our  dying  in  the  hills  alone.  That  is  all." 

"Jim  Yeager  is  your  friend?" 

"Yes." 

"And  you  guarantee  he'll  keep  his  mouth  pad 
locked  and  not  betray  me?" 

"He'll  do  as  he  pleases  about  that,"  she  said  in 
differently. 

"Then  I  don't  reckon  I'll  trouble  his  hospitality. 
Good-by,  Miss  Sanderson.  I've  enjoyed  meeting 
you  very  much." 

He  checked  his  pony  and  bowed. 

"Where  are  you  going?"  the  girl  exclaimed. 

"Up  Bear  Creek" 

"It's  twenty  miles.     You  can't  do  it." 

"Sure  I  can.  Thanks  for  your  kindness,  Miss 
Sanderson.  I'll  return  the  handkerchief  some 
day,"  and  with  a  touch  swung  round  his  pony. 

"You're  not  going.  I  won't  have  it,  and  you 
wounded !" 

He  turned  in  the  saddle,  smiling  at  her  with 
jaunty  insouciance. 


38  MAVERICKS 


"I'll  answer  for  Jim.  He  won't  betray  you,*' 
she  promised,  subduing  her  pride. 

"Thanks.  I'll  take  your  word  for  it,  but  I  won't 
trouble  your  friend.  I've  had  all  the  Christian 
charity  that's  good  for  me  this  mo'ning,"  he 
drawled. 

At  that  she  flamed  out  passionately:  "Do  you 
want  me  to  tell  you  that  I  like  you,  knowing  what 
you  are?  Do  you  want  me  to  pretend  that  I  feel 
friendly  when  I  hate  you?" 

"Do  you  want  me  to  be  under  obligations  to 
folks  that  hate  me?"  he  came  back  with  his  easy 
smile. 

"You  have  lost  a  lot  of  blood.  Your  arm  is  still 
bleeding.  You  know  I  can't  let  you  go  alone." 

"You're  ce'tainly  aching  for  a  chance  to  be  a 
Good  Samaritan,  Miss  Sanderson." 

With  this  he  left  her.  But  he  had  not  gone  a 
hundred  yards  before  he  heard  her  pony  cantering 
after  his.  One  glance  told  him  she  was  furious, 
both  at  him  and  at  herself. 

"Did  you  come  after  your  handkerchief,  ma'am? 
I'm  not  through  with  it  yet,"  he  said  innocently. 

"I'm  going  with  you.  I'm  not  going  to  leave 
you  till  we  meet  some  one  that  will  take  charge  of 
you,"  she  choked. 

"It  isn't  necessary.  I'm  much  obliged,  ma'am, 
but  you're  overestimating  the  effect  of  this  pill 
your  friend  injected  into  me/' 


MAVERICKS  39 


"Still,  I'm  going.  I  won't  have  your  death  on 
my  hands,"  she  told  him  defiantly. 

"Sho!  I  ain't  aimin'  to  pass  over  the  divide  on 
account  of  a  scratch  like  this.  There's  no  danger 
but  what  I  can  look  out  for  myself." 

She  waited  in  silence  for  him  to  start,  looking 
straight  ahead  of  her. 

He  tried  in  vain  to  argue  her  out  of  it.  She 
had  nothing  to  say,  and  he  saw  she  was  obstinately 
determined  to  carry  her  point. 

Finally,  with  a  little  chuckle  at  her  stubbornness, 
he  gave  in  and  turned  round. 

"All  right.  Yeager's  it  is.  We're  acting  like  a 
pair  of  kids,  seems  to  me."  This  lasi  <#ith  a  pro 
pitiatory  little  smile  toward  her  which  she  dis 
dained  to  answer. 

Yeager  saw  them  from  afar,  and  recognized  tlife 
girl. 

"Hello,  Phyllis!"  he  shouted  down,  "With  you 
in  a  minute." 

The  girl  slipped  to  the  ground,  and  climbed  the 
steep  trail  to  meet  him.  Her  crisp  "Wait  here,*' 
flung  over  her  shoulder  with  the  slightest  turn  of 
the  head,  kept  Keller  in  the  saddle. 

Halfway  up  she  and  the  man  met.  The  one\ 
waiting  below  could  not  hear  what  they  said,  but  he 
could  tell  she  was  explaining  the  situation  to  Yea 
ger.  The  latter  nodded  from  time  to  time,  pro 
tested,  was  vehemently  overruled,  and  seemed  to 
leave  the  matter  with  her.  Together  they  retraced 


40  MAVERICKS 


their  way.  Young  Yeager,  in  flannel  shirt  and 
half -leg  miner's  boots,  was  a  splendid  specimen  of 
bronzed  Arizona.  His  level  gaze  judged  the  man 
on  horseback,  approved  him,  and  met  him  eye  to 
eye. 

"Better  light,  Mr.  Keller.  If  you  come  in  we'll 
have  a  look  at  your  arm.  An  accident  like  that  is 
a  mighty  awkward  thing  to  happen  to  a  man  on 
the  trail.  It's  right  fortunate  Miss  Sanderson 
found  you  so  soon  after  it  happened." 

The  nester  knew  a  surge  of  triumph  in  his  blood, 
but  it  did  not  show  in  the  impassive  face  which  he 
turned  upon  his  host. 

"It  was  right  fortunate  for  me,"  he  said,  swing 
ing  from  the  saddle.  Incidentally  he  was  won 
dering  what  story  had  been  narrated  to  Yeager, 
but  he  took  a  chance  without  hesitation.  "A  fel 
low  oughtn't  to  be  so  careless  when  he's  got  a 
gun  in  his  hand." 

"You're  right,  seh.  In  this  country  of  heavy 
underbrush  a  man's  gun  is  liable  to  go  off  and  hit 
somebody  any  time  if  he  ain't  careful.  You're  in 
,big  luck  you  didn't  shoot  yourself  up  a  heap  worse. " 

Yeager  led  the  way  to  his  cabin,  and  offered  Phyl 
lis  the  single  chair  he  boasted,  and  the  nester  a 
'seat  on  the  bed.  Sitting  beside  him,  he  examined 
the  wound  and  washed  it. 

"Comes  to  being  an  invalid  I'm  a  false  alarm/' 
Keller  said  apologetically.  "I  didn't  want  to  come, 
but  Miss  Sanderson  would  bring  me." 


MAVERICKS 


"She  was  dead  right,  too.  Time  you  had  rid 
den  twenty  miles  through  the  hot  sun  with  that 
wound  you  would  have  been  in  a  raging  fever." 

"One  way  and  another  I'm  quite  in  her  debt." 

''That's  so,"  agreed  Yeager,  intent  on  his  work. 

She  refused  to  meet  the  nester's  smile.  "Fiddle 
sticks!  You  talk  mighty  foolish,  Jim.  I  wouldn't 
go  away  and  leave  a  wounded  dog  if  I  could  help 
it" 

"Suppose  the  dog  were  a  sheep-killer  ?"  Keller 
asked  with  his  engaging,  impudent  smile. 

A  dust  cloud  rose  from  her  skirt  under  a  stroke 
of  the  restless  quirt.  "I'd  do  my  best  for  it  and 
let  it  settle  with  the  law  afterward." 

"Even  if  it  were  a  wolf  caught  in  a  trap?" 

"I  should  put  it  out  of  its  pain.  No  matter  how 
much  I  detested  it,  I  wouldn't  leave  it  there  to  suf 
fer." 

"I'm  quite  sure  you  wouldn't,"  the  wounded  man 
agreed. 

Yeager  looked  from  one  to  the  other,  not  quite 
catching  the  drift  of  the  underlying  meaning.  An 
other  thing  puzzled  him,  too.  But,  like  most  men 
of  the  unfenced  Southwest,  Yeager  had  a  large 
capacity  for  silence.  Now  he  attended  strictly  to 
his  business,  without  mentioning  what  he  had  no 
ticed. 

The  wound  dressed,  Phyllis  rose  to  leave. 
"You'll  be  down  for  your  mail  to-morrow,  Jim/' 
she  suggested,  as  she  sauntered  toward  the  door. 


MAVERICKS 


"Sure.  I'll  let  you  know  how  our  patient  is  get 
ting  along." 

"Oh,  he's  yours.  I  don't  want  any  of  the 
credit/'  she  returned  carelessly. 

Then,  the  words  scarce  off  her  lips,  she  gave  a 
little  cry  of  alarm,  and  stepped  quickly  back  into 
the  room.  What  she  had  seen  had  sapped  the 
color  from  her  face.  Yeager  started  forward,  but 
she  waved  him  back. 

"It's  Phil  and  Brill  Healy.  You've  got  to  hide 
us,  Jim,"  she  told  him  tensely. 

The  nester  began  to  grin.  He  always  did  when 
he  faced  a  difficulty  apparently  insurmountable. 
Also  his  fingers  slid  toward  the  butt  of  his  re- 
volrer. 


CHAPTER   IV 

"I'M   A   RUSTLER   AND  A  THIEF,    AM   I?" 

Jim  swept  the  cabin  with  a  gesture.  "Where 
can  I  hide  you?  Anyhow,  there  are  the  horses  in 
plain  sight." 

Phyllis  took  imperious  control.  "Get  a  coat  on 
him,  Jim,"  she  ordered. 

At  the  same  time  she  caught  up  the  basin  of 
bloodstained  water  and  flung  its  contents  through 
the  open  window.  The  torn  linen  and  the  stained 
handkerchief  she  tossed  into  a  corner  and  covered 
with  a  gunny  sack. 

"Not  a  word  about  the  wound,  Jim.  Mr.  Kel 
ler  is  here  to  help  you  do  your  assessment  work, 
remember.  And  whatever  I  say,  don't  give  me 
away." 

Yeager  nodded.  He  had  manoeuvred  the  wounded 
arm  through  the  coat  sleeve  and  was  straightening 
out  the  shoulders.  The  nesters  eyes  were  shining 
with  excitement.  Alone  of  the  three,  he  was  en 
joying  himself. 

"Remember  now.  Don't  talk  too  much.  Let 
me  run  this,"  the  girl  cautioned,  and  with  that  she 
stepped  to  the  door,  caught  sight  of  her  brother 

43 


44  MAVERICKS 


with  a  glad  little  cry  of  apparent  relief,  and  ran 
swiftly  to  him. 

"Oh,  Phil!"  she  almost  sobbed,  and  the  stress 
of  her  emotion  was  genuine  enough,  even  if  she 
dissembled  as  to  the  cause. 

The  boy  patted  her  dark  hair  gently.  They  were 
twins,  without  other  near  relatives  except  their 
father,  and  the  tie  between  them  was  close. 

"What  is  it,  Phyllie?  Why  didn't  you  stay 
where  we  left  you?" 

"I  was  afraid  for  you.  And  I  rode  a  little 
nearer.  Then  he  came  straight  toward  me — and  I 
rode  away.  I  could  hear  him  crashing  through  the 
mesquite.  When  I  reached  the  trail  of  Jim's  mine, 
I  followed  it,  for  I  knew  he  would  be  here." 

"Sure.  Course  she  was  scared.  What  woman 
wouldn't  be?  We  oughtn't  both  to  have  left  her. 
But  there  wasn't  one  chance  in  a  thousand  of  his 
stumbling  on  the  very  spot  where  she  was,"  said 
Healy. 

Phil  gentled  her  with  a  caressing  hand.  "It's 
all  right  now,  sis.  Did  you  happen  to  see  the 
fellow  at  all  ?" 

"Yes.    At  a  distance." 

"I  don't  suppose  you  would  know  him/'  Healy; 
said. 

She  gave  a  strained  little  laugh.  "I  didn't  wait 
to  get  a  description  of  him.  Didn't  you  boys 
recognize  him?" 

After  Phil's  answer  she  breathed  freer.     "We 


MAVERICKS  45 


did  not  get  near  enough,  though  Brill  got  two 
shots  at  him  as  he  pulled  out.  He  was  going  hell- 
for-leather  and  Brill  missed  both  times/'  He  low 
ered  his  voice  and  asked  angrily :  "What's  he  doing 
here?" 

For  Keller  had  followed  Yeager  from  the  cabin 
and  was  standing  in  the  doorway  with  his  hands 
in  his  pockets.  He  wore  no  hat,  and  had  the  man 
ner  of  one  very  much  at  home. 

"He's  helping  Jim  with  his  assessment  work/' 
she  answered  in  the  same  low  tone.  "It's  too  bad 
you  lost  the  rustler.  He  must  have  broken  for 
the  hills/' 

Healy's  eyes  had  narrowed  to  slits.  Now  he 
murmured  a  question :  "What  about  this  man  Kel 
ler?  Was  he  here  when  you  came,  Phyl?" 

The  girl  turned  to  Yeager,  who  had  sauntered 
up.  "Didn't  you  say  he  came  this  morning, 
Jim?" 

Yeager's  eyes  were  like  a  stone  wall.  "Yep. 
This  mo'ning.  I  needed  some  husky  guy  to  help 
me,  so  I  got  him." 

"Funny  you  had  to  get  a  fellow  from  Bear 
Creek  to  help  you,  Jim/' 

"Are  you  looking  for  a  job,  Brill  ?" 

"No.     Why?" 

"Because  I  ain't  noticed  any  stampede  this  way 
among  the  boys  to  preempt  this  job.  I  take  a  man 
where  I  can  find  him,  Brill,  and  I  don't  ask  you  to 
O.  K.  him." 


46  MAVERICKS 


"I  see  you  don't,  Jim.  The  boys  aren't  going  to 
like  it  very  well,  though." 

'Then  they  know  what  they  can  do  about  it," 
Yeager  answered  evenly,  level  eyes  steadily  on 
those  of  his  critic. 

"What  time  did  this  nester  get  here,  Jim?"  broke 
in  Phil. 

Yeager's  opaque  eyes  passed  from  Healy  to  San 
derson.  "It  might  have  been  about  eight." 

"Then  he  couldn't  be  the  man,"  the  boy  said  to 
Healy,  almost  in  a  whisper. 

"What  man?"  Jim  asked. 

"We  ran  on  a  rustler  branding  a  C.  O.  calf.  We 
got  close  enough  to  take  a  shot  at  him.  Then  he 
slid  into  some  arroyo,  and  we  lost  him,"  Phil  ex 
claimed. 

"How  long  ago  was  this?"  asked  Yeager. 

"About  an  hour  since  we  first  saw  him.  Beats 
all  how  he  ever  made  his  getaway.  We  were  right 
after  him  when  he  gave  us  the  slip." 

"Oh,  he  gave  you  the  slip,  did  he?" 

"Dropped  into  some  hole  and  pulled  it  in  after 
him.  These  hills  are  built  for  hide  and  seek,  looks 
like." 

"Notice  the  color  of  his  horse?" 

"It  was  a  roan,  Jim.  Something  like  that  nest- 
er's."  Phil  nodded  toward  the  animal  Keller  had 
ridden. 

All  eyes  focused  hard  on  the  horse  with  the 
white  stockings. 


MAVERICKS  47 


"What  brand  was  he  putting  on  the  calf? 
That'll  tell  you  who  the  man  was.'* 

Phil  and  Healy  looked  at  each  other,  and  the 
latter  laughed.  "That's  one  on  us.  We  didn't  stay 
to  look,  but  got  right  out  for  Mr.  Rustler." 

"Did  he  kill  the  cow?" 

Phil  nodded. 

"Then  you'll  find  the  calf  still  hanging  around 
there  unless  he  had  a  pal  to  drive  it  away." 

'That's  right.  We'll  go  back  now  and  look. 
Ready,  Phyl?" 

"Yes."  She  stepped  to  her  horse,  and  swung 
to  the  saddle. 

Meanwhile  Healy  rode  forward  to  the  cabin. 
Through  narrowed  lids  he  looked  down  at  the  man 
standing  in  the  doorway.  "Give  that  message  to 
your  friends?"  he  demanded  insolently. 

There  are  men  who  have  to  look  at  each  other 
only  once  to  know  that  there  is  born  between  them 
a  perpetual  hostility.  Each  of  these  men  had  felt 
it  at  the  first  shock  of  meeting  eyes.  They  would 
feel  it  again  as  often  as  they  looked  at  each 
other. 

"No,"  the  nester  answered. 

"Why  not?" 

"I  didn't  care  to.  You  may  carry  your  own 
messages." 

"When  I  do  I'll  carry  them  with  a  gun." 

"Interesting  if  true."  Keller's  gaze  passed  de 
risively  over  him  and  dismissed  the  man. 


48  MAVERICKS 


"And  I  hope  when  I  come  I'll  meet  Mr.  Keller 
first." 

The  nester's  attention  was  focused  indolently 
upon  the  hills.  He  seemed  to  have  forgotten  that 
the  cattleman  was  in  Arizona. 

Healy  ripped  out  a  sudden  oath,  drove  the  spurs 
in,  and  went  down  the  trail  with  his  broncho  on  the 
buck. 

Keller  looked  at  Yeager  and  laughed,  but  that 
young  man  met  him  with  a  frosty  eye. 

"I've  got  some  questions  to  ask  you,  Mr.  Kel 
ler,"  he  said. 

"Unload  'em." 

Yeager  led  the  way  inside,  offered  his  guest  the 
chair,  and  sat  down  on  the  bed  with  his  arms  on 
the  table  which  had  been  drawn  close  to  it. 

"In  the  first  place,  I'll  announce  myself.  I  don't 
hold  with  rustlers  or  waddies.  I'm  a  white  man. 
That  being  understood,  I  want  to  know  where 
we're  at." 

"Meaning?" 

"Miss  Phyllis  unloads  a  story  on  me  about  you 
shooting  yourself  up  accidental.  Soon  as  I  looked 
at  you  that  looked  fishy  to  me.  You  ain't  that, 
kind  of  a  durn  fool.  Would  you  mind  handing 
me  a  dipper  of  water?  Thanks."  Yeager  tossed 
the  water  out  of  the  window,  and  the  dipper  back 
into  the  pail.  "I  noticed  you  handed  me  that  water 
with  your  right  hand.  Your  gun  is  on  your  rigfot 
skk.  Then  how  in  Mexico,  you  being  right- 


MAVERICKS  49 


handed,  did  you  manage  to  shoot  yourself  in  the 
right  arm  below  the  elbow?" 

Keller  laughed  dryly,  and  offered  no  informa 
tion.  "Quite  a  Sherlock  Holmes,  ain't  you?" 

"Hell,  no !  I  got  eyes  in  my  head,  though.  More 
over,  that  bullet  went  in  at  right  angles  to  your 
arm.  How  did  you  make  out  to  do  that  ?" 

"Sleight  of  hand/'  suggested  the  other. 

"No  powder  marks,  either.  And,  lastly,  it  was 
a  rifle  did  it,  not  a  revolver/' 

"Anything  more?" 

"Some.  That  side  talk  between  you  and  Miss 
Phyllis  wasn't  over  and  above  clear  to  me  th^n.  I 
saves  it  now.  She  hates  you  like  p'ison,  but  she's 
too  tender-hearted  to  give  you  up.  Ain't  that  it?" 

"That's  it." 

"She  lied  for  you  to  me.  She  lied  again  to  Phil, 
So  did  I.  Oh,  we  didn't  lie  in  words,  but  it's  the 
same  thing.  Now,  I  wouldn't  lie  to  save  my  own 
skin.  Why  then  should  I  for  yours,  and  you  a  rus 
tler  and  a  thief?" 

"I'm  a  rustler  and  a  thief,  am  I  ?" 

"Ain't  you?" 

"Would  you  believe  me  if  I  said  I  wasn't?" 

Yeager  debated  an  instant  before  he  answered 
flatly,  "No." 

"Then  I  won't  say  it." 

The  wounded  man  tossed  his  answer  off  so  flip- 
pantiy  that  Yeager  scowled  at  him.  "Mr.  Keller, 
you're  a  newcomer  here.  I  wonder  if  you  know 


50  MAVERICKS 


what  the  Malpais  country  would  be  liable  to  do  to 
a  man  caught  rustling  now." 

"I  can  guess." 

"Let  me  tell  what  I  know  and  your  life  wouldn't 
be  worth  a  plugged  quarter." 

"Why  didn't  you  tell?" 

Yeager  brought  his  big  fist  down  heavily  on  the 
table.  "Because  of  Phyl  Sanderson.  That's 
why.  She  put  it  up  to  me,  and  I  played  her  game. 
But  I  ain't  sure  I'm  going  to  keep  on  playing  it. 
I'm  a  Malpais  man.  My  father  has  a  ranch  down 
there,  and  I've  rode  the  range  all  my  life.  Why 
should  I  throw  down  my  friends  to  save  a  rustler 
caught  in  the  act?" 

"You've  already  tried  and  convicted  me,  I  see." 

"The  facts  convict  you,  seh." 

"Your  understanding  of  the  facts,  I  reckon  you 


mean." 


"I  haven't  noticed  that  you're  giving  me  any 
chance  to  understand  them  different,"  Yeager  cut 
back  dryly. 

The  nester  took  from  his  pocket  a  little  pearl- 
handled  knife,  picked  up  a  potato  from  a  basket 
beside  him,  and  began  to  whittle  on  it  absently. 
He  looked  across  the  table  at  the  man  sitting  on 
the  bed,  and  debated  a  question  in  his  mind.  Was 
it  best  to  confess  the  whole  truth?  Or  should  he 
keep  his  own  counsel? 

"I  see  you've  got  Miss  Sanderson's  knife.  Did 
you  forget  to  return  it  ?"  Yeager  made  comment. 


MAVERICKS  51 


For  just  an  instant  Keller's  eye  confessed  amaze 
ment.  "Miss  Sanderson's  knife!  Why — how  did 
you  know  it  was  hers?"  he  asked,  gathering  him 
self  together  lamely. 

"I  ought  to  know,  seeing  as  I  gave  it  to  her  for 
ia  Christmas  present.  Sent  to  Denver  for  that 
knife,  I  did.  Best  lady's  knife  in  the  market,  I'm 
told.  Made  in  Sheffield,  England." 

"Ye-es.  It's  sure  a  good  knife.  I'll  ce'tainly 
return  it  next  time  I  see  her." 

"Funny  she  ever  let  you  get  away  with  it.  She's 
some  particular  who  she  lends  that  knife  to,"  Jim 
said  proudly. 

Keller  wiped  the  blade  carefully,  shut  it,  and  put 
the  knife  back  in  his  pocket.  Nevertheless,  he  was 
worried  in  his  mind.  For  what  Yeager  had  told 
him  changed  wholly  the  problem  before  him.  It 
suggested  a  possibility,  even  a  probability,  very 
distasteful  to  him.  He  was  in  trouble  himself,  and 
before  he  was  through  he  expected  to  get  others 
into  deep  water,  too.  But  not  Phyllis  Sanderson — 
surely  not  this  impulsive  girl  with  the  blue-black 
hair  and  dark,  scornful  eyes.  Wherefore  he  de 
cided  to  keep  silent  now  and  let  Yeager  do  what 
he  would. 

"I  reckon,  seh,  you'll  have  to  do  your  own  guess 
ing  at  the  facts,"  he  said  gently. 

"Just  as  you  say,  Mr.  Keller.  I  reckon  if  you 
had  anything  to  say  for  yourself  you  would  say  it. 
Now,  I'll  do  what  talking  I've  got  to  do.  You 


MAVERICKS 


may  stay  here  twenty- four  hours.  After  that  you 
may  hit  the  trail  for  Bear  Creek.  I'm  going*  down 
to  Seven  Mile  to  tell  what  I  know/' 

"That's  all  right.  I'll  go  along  and  return  the 
pocketknife." 

Yeager  viewed  him  with  stern  disgust.  "Don't 
make  any  mistake,  seh.  If  you  go  down  it's  an 
even  chance  you'll  never  go  back." 

"Sure.  Life's  full  of  chances.  There's  even  a 
chance  I'm  not  a  rustler." 

"Then  I'd  advise  you  not  to  go  down  to  Seven 
Mile  with  me.  I'd  hate  to  find  out  too  late  I'd 
helped  hang  the  wrong  man,"  Yeager  dryly  an 
swered. 


CHAPTER   V 

AN  AIDER  AND  ABETTOR 

Having  come  to  an  understanding,  Yeager  and 
Keller  wasted  no  time  or  temper  in  acrimony.  Both 
of  them  belonged  to  that  big  outdoors  West  which 
plays  the  game  to  the  limit  without  littleness. 
They  were  in  hostile  camps,  but  that  did  not  pre 
vent  them  from  holding  amiable  conversation  on 
the  common  topics  of  Cattleland.  Only  one  of 
these  they  avoided  by  mutual  consent  Neither  of 
them  had  anything  to  say  about  rustling. 

Together  they  ate  and  smoked  and  slept,  and  in 
the  morning  after  breakfast  they  saddled  and  set 
out  for  Seven  Mile.  A  man  might  have  traveled 
far  without  seeing  finer  specimens  of  the  frontier, 
any  more  competent,  self-restrained,  or  fitter  for 
emergency.  They  rode  with  straight  back  and 
loose  seat,  breaking  long  silences  with  occasional 
drawling  comment.  For  in  the  cow  country  strong 
men  talk  only  when  they  have  something  to  say. 

The  stage  had  just  left  when  they  reached  Seven 
Mile,  and  Public  Opinion  was  seated  on  the  porch 
as  per  custom.  It  regarded  Keller  with  a  stony, 

53 


54  MAVERICKS 


expressionless  hostility.  Yeager  with  frank  disap 
probation. 

Just  before  swinging  from  the  saddle,  Jim 
turned  to  the  nester.  "I'm  giving  you  an  hour,  seh. 
After  that,  I'm  going  to  speak  my  little  piece  to 
the  boys." 

"Thank  you.  An  hour  will  be  plenty/'  Keller 
answered,  and  passed  into  the  store,  apparently 
oblivious  of  the  silent  observation  focused  upon 
him. 

Phyllis,  busy  unwrapping  a  package  of  papers, 
glanced  up  to  see  his  curly  head  in  the  stamp  win 
dow. 

"Anything  for  L.  Keller?"  he  wanted  to  know, 
after  he  had  unburdened  himself  of  a  friendly 
"Mornin',  Miss  Sanderson." 

Her  impulse  was  to  ask  him  how  his  wound  was, 
but  she  repressed  it  sternly.  She  took  the  letters 
from  the  K  pigeonhole  and  found  two  for  him. 

"Thank  you,  I'm  feeling  fine,"  he  laughed,  gath 
ering  up  his  mail. 

"I  didn't  ask  you  how  you  were  feeling/'  she 
answered,  turning  coldly  to  her  newspapers. 

"I  thought  mebbe  you'd  want  to  know  about  my 
punctured  tire." 

"It's  very  good  of  you  to  relieve  my  anxiety." 

"Let  me  relieve  it  some  more,  Miss  Sanderson. 
Here's  the  knife  you  lost." 

She  glanced  up  carelessly  at  the  pearl-handled 


MAVERICKS  55 


knife  he  pushed  through  the  window.  "I  didn't 
know  it  was  lost." 

"Well,  now  you  know  it's  found  When  do 
you  remember  seeing  it  last,  ma'am?" 

"I  lent  it  to  a  friend  two  days  ago." 

"Oh,  to  a  friend — two  days  ago." 

His  eyes  were  on  her  so  steadily  that  the  girl 
was  aware  of  some  significance  he  gave  to  the  fact, 
some  hidden  meaning  that  escaped  her. 

"What  friend  did  you  say,  Miss  Sanderson?" 

He  asked  it  casually,  but  his  question  irritated 
her. 

"I  didn't  say,  sir." 

"That's  so.     You  didn't" 

"Where  did  you  get  it?"  she  demanded. 

He  grinned.  "I'll  tell  you  that  if  you'll  tell  me 
who  you  lent  it  to." 

Her  curt  answer  reminded  him  that  he  was  in  her 
eyes  a  convicted  criminal.  "It's  of  no  importance, 


sir." 


"That's  what  you  think,  Miss  Sanderson." 
She  sorted  the  newspapers  in  the  bundle,  and 
began  to  slip  them  into  the  private  boxes  where 
they  belonged.  Presently,  however,  her  curiosity 
demanded  satisfaction.  Without  looking  at  him, 
she  volunteered  information. 

"But  there's  no  mystery  about  it.  Phil  borrowed 
the  knife  to  fix  a  stirrup  leather,  and  forgot  to  give 
it  back  to  me." 


56  MAVERICKS 


"Your  brother?" 

"Yes/' 

He  was  taken  aback.  There  was  nothing  for  it 
but  a  white  lie.  "I  found  it  near  Yeager's  mine 
yesterday.  I  reckon  he  must  have  dropped  it  on 
his  way  there." 

"I  don't  see  anything  very  mysterious  about 
that,"  she  said  frostily. 

She  looked  so  definitely  unaware  of  him  as  she 
worked  that  he  fell  back  from  the  window  and 
passed  out  to  the  porch.  He  had  found  out  more 
than  he  wanted  to  know. 

Jim  Yeager's  drawling  voice  came  to  him,  gen 
tle  and  low  as  usual,  but  with  an  edge  to  it.  "I 
been  discoverin'  I'm  some  unpopular  to-day,  Brill. 
Malpais  has  been  expressin'  its  opinion  right  plain. 
You've  arrived  in  time  to  chirp  in  with  a  'Me, 
too/  " 

Healy  had  evidently  just  ridden  up,  for  he  was 
still  in  the  saddle.  He  relaxed  into  one  of  the  easy, 
attitudes  used  by  men  of  the  plains  to  rest  them 
selves  without  dismounting. 

"You  know  my  sentiments,  Jim,"  he  replied,  not 
unamiably. 

"Sure  I  know  them.  Plumb  dissatisfied  with  me, 
ain't  you?  Makes  me  feel  awful  bad."  Jim  was 
sailing  into  the  full  tide  of  his  sarcasm  when  Kel 
ler  touched  him  on  the  shoulder. 

"I'd  like  to  see  you  for  a  moment,  Mr.  Yeager, 
if  you  can  give  me  the  time,"  he  said. 


MAVERICKS  57 


Healy  took  in  the  nester  with  an  eye  of  jade. 
"Your  twin  brother  wants  you,  Jim.  Run  along 
with  him.  Don't  mind  us/' 

"I  won't,  Brill." 

The  young  man  rose,  and  sauntered  off  with  the 
Bear  Creek  settler.  At  the  corral  fence,  some  fifty 
yards  from  the  house,  he  stopped  under  the  shade 
of  a  live  oak,  and  put  his  arms  on  the  top  rail.  He 
had  allowed  himself  to  show  no  sign  of  it,  but  he 
resented  this  claim  upon  him  that  seemed  to  ally 
him  further  with  the  enemy. 

"Here  I  am,  Mr.  Keller.  What  can  I  do  for 
you?" 

"You're  a  friend  of  Miss  Sanderson.  You  would 
stand  between  her  and  trouble?"  the  other  de 
manded  abruptly. 

"I  expect." 

"Then  find  out  for  me  what  Phil  Sanderson  did 
with  the  knife  his  sister  lent  him  two  days  ago. 
Find  out  whether  he  lent  it  to  anybody,  and,  if  so, 
who." 

"What  for?" 

It  had  come  to  a  show-down,  and  the  other  tabled 
\his  cards. 

"I  found  that  knife  yesterday  mo'ning.  It  waft 
'lying  beside  the  dead  cow  in  the  park  where  your 
friends  happened  on  me.  I  reckon  the  rustlers  must 
have  heard  me  coming  and  drove  the  calf  away 
just  before  I  arrived.  In  his  hurry  one  of  them 
forgot  that  knife.  If  you'll  tell  me  the  man  who 


58  MAVERICKS 


had  it  in  his  pocket  yesterday  when  he  left  home, 
I'll  tell  you  who  one  of  the  Malpais  rustlers  is." 

Jim  considered  this,  his  gaze  upon  the  far-away 
range.  When  he  brought  it  back  to  Keller,  he  was 
smiling  incredulously. 

"I  hear  you  say  so,  seh.  But  what  a  man  with 
a  halter  round  his  neck  says  don't  go  far  before  a 
court." 

"I  expected  you  to  say  about  that" 

"Then  I  haven't  disappointed  you."  He  con 
tinued  presently,  with  cold  hostility:  "That  story 
you  cooked  up  is  about  the  only  one  you  could 
spring.  What  surprises  me  is  that  a  man  with  as 
good  a  head  as  yours  took  twenty-four  hours  to  fig 
ure  out  your  explanation.  I  want  to  tell  you,  too, 
that  it  don't  make  any  hit  with  me  that  you're  try 
ing  to  throw  the  blame  on  a  boy  I've  known  all  my 
life." 

"Who  happens  to  be  a  brother  of  Miss  Sander 
son,"  Keller  let  himself  suggest. 

Yeager  flushed.     "That  ain't  the  point." 

"The  point  is  that  I'm  trying  to  clear  this  boy, 
and  I  want  your  help." 

"Looks  to  me  like  you  want  to  clear  yourself." 

"If  I  prove  to  you  that  I'm  not  a  rustler,  will  you,v 
padlock  your  tongue  and  help  me  clear  young  San-^ 
derson?" 

"I  sure  will — if  you  prove  it  to  my  satisfaction/' 

Keller  drew  from  his  pocket  the  two  letters  he 
had  just  received.  "Read  these." 


MAVERICKS  59 


When  he  had  read,  Yeager  handed  them  back, 
and  offered  his  hand.  "That  clears  you,  seh.  Truth 
is,  I  never  was  satisfied  you  was  a  rustler.  My 
mind  was  satisfied;  but,  durn  it,  you  didn't  look 
like  a  waddy.  It's  lucky  I  hadn't  spoke  to  the  boys 
yet." 

"I  want  to  keep  this  quiet,"  the  Bear  Creek  set 
tler  explained. 

"Sure.     I'm  a  clam,  and  at  your  service,  seh/' 

"Then  find  out  the  truth  about  the  knife." 

Yeager's  eye  chiselled  into  that  of  Keller. 
"Mind,  I  ain't  going  to  help  you  bring  trouble  to 
Phyllie,  and  I  ain't  going  to  stand  by  and  see  it, 
either." 

The  other  smiled.  "I  don't  ask  it  of  you.  What 
I  want  is  to  clear  the  boy." 

"Good  enough,"  agreed  Yeager,  and  led  the  way 
back. 

Before  they  had  yet  reached  the  house,  a  figure 
dropped  from  the  foliage  of  the  live  oak  under 
which  they  had  been  standing,  and  rolled  like  a 
ball  from  the  fence  into  the  deep  dust  of  the  corral. 
It  picked  itself  up  in  a  gray  cloud,  from  which 
shone  as  a  nucleus  a  black  face  with  beady  eyes  and 
flashing  white  teeth.  Swiftly  it  scampered  across 
the  paddock,  disappeared  into  the  rear  of  the  stable, 
and  reappeared  at  the  front  door. 

"Here  you,  'Rastus,  where  you  been?"  demanded 
the  wrangler.  "Didn't  I  tell  you  to  clean  Miss 
Phyl's  trap?  I've  wore  my  lungs  out  hollering  for 


60  MAVERICKS 


you.  Now,  you  git  to  work,  or  I'll  wear  you  to  a 
frazzle." 

'Rastus,  general  alias  for  his  baptismal  name  of 
George  Washington  Abraham  Lincoln  Randolph, 
grinned  and  ducked,  shot  out  of  the  stable  like  a 
streak  of  light,  and  appeared  ten  seconds  later  in 
the  kitchen  presided  over  by  his  rotund  mother, 
Becky. 

His  abrupt  entrance  disturbed  the  maternal  after- 
dinner  nap.  From  the  rocking-chair  where  she  sat 
Becky  rolled  affronted  eyes  at  him. 

"What  you  doin'  here,  Gawge  Washington? 
Ain't  I  done  tole  you  sebenty  times  seben  to  keep 
outa  my  kitchen  at  dis  time  o'  day?" 

"I  wanter  see  Miss  Phyl." 

"Then  I  low  you  kin  take  it  out  in  wantin'. 
Think  she  got  time  to  fool  away  on  a  nigger  sprout 
like  you-all?  Light  a  shuck  back  to  the  stable, 
where  you  belong." 

'Rastus  grinned  amiably,  flung  himself  at  a  door, 
and  vanished  into  that  part  of  the  house  which  was 
forbidden  territory  to  him,  the  while  Becky  stared 
after  him  in  amazement 

"What  in  tarnation  got  in  dat  nigger  child  ?"  she 
gasped. 

Phyllis,  having  arranged  the  mail  and  delivered 
most  of  it,  had  left  the  store  in  charge  of  the  clerk 
and  retired  to  her  private  den,  a  cool  room  finished 
in  restful  tints  at  the  northeast  corner  of  the  house. 
She  was  sitting  by  a  window  reading  a  magazine, 


MAVERICKS  61 


when  there  came  a  knock.  Her  "Come  in"  dis 
closed  'Rastus  and  the  whites  of  his  rolling  eyes. 

She  nodded  and  smiled.  "What  can  I  do  for 
you,  George  Washington  Abraham  Lincoln  Ran 
^dolph?" 

"I  done  come  to  tell  you  somepin  I  heerd  whilst 
»I  was  asleep  in  de  live  oak  at  the  corral." 

"Something  you  dreamed.  It  is  very  good  of 
you,  George  Wash " 

"Now,  don't  you  call  me  all  dat  again,  Miss  Phyl. 
And  I  didn't  dream  it  nerrer.  I  woke  up  and  heerd 
it.  Mr.  Jim  Yeager  and  dat  nester  they  call  Kel 
ler  wuz  a-talkin',  and  Mr.  Jim  he  allowed  dat  Kel 
ler  wuz  a  rustler,  and  den  Keller  he  allowed  dat 
Mr.  Phil  wuz  de  rustler/' 

"What!"  The  girl  had  sprung  to  her  feet, 
amazed,  her  dark  eyes  blazing  indignation. 

"Tha's  what  he  said.  He  went  on  to  tell  how  he 
done  found  a  knife  by  the  dead  cow,  an'  'twuz  yore 
knife,  an'  you  done  loan  it  to  Mr.  Phil." 

"He  said  that !"  She  was  a  creature  transformed 
by  passion.  The  hot  blood  of  Southern  ancestors 
raced  through  her  veins  clamorously.  She  wanted 
to  strike  down  this  man,  to  annihilate  him  and  the 
cowardly  lie  he  had  given  to  shield  himself.  And 
1  pat  to  her  need  came  the  very  person  she  could  best 
use  for  her  instrument. 

Healy  stood  surprised  in  the  doorway,  con 
fronted  by  the  slender  yottng  amazon.  The  storm 
of  passion  in  the  eyes,  the  underlying  flush  in  the 


MAVERICKS 


dusky  cheeks,  indicated  a  new  mood  in  his  experi 
ence  of  this  young  woman  of  many  moods. 

"Come  in  and  shut  the  door,"  she  ordered.  Then, 
"Tell  him,  'Rastus." 

The  boy,  all  smiles  gone  now,  repeated  his  story,j 
and  was  excused. 

"What  do  you  think  of  that,  Brill?"  the  girl  de 
manded,  after  the  door  had  closed  on  him. 

The  stockman's  eyes  had  grown  hard.  "I  think 
Keller's  covering  his  own  tracks.  Of  course  we've 
got  no  direct  proof,  but " 

"We  have,"  she  broke  in. 

"I  can't  see  it.     According  to  Jim  Yeager " 

"Jim  lied.     I  asked  him  to." 

"You— what?" 

"I  asked  him  to  say  that  this  man  had  come  there 
to  work  for  him.  Jim  was  not  to  blame." 

"But— why?" 

She  threw  out  a  gesture  of  self-contempt  "Why 
did  I  do  it?  I  don't  know.  Because  he  was 
wounded,  I  suppose." 

"Wounded!     Then  I  did  hit  him?" 

"Yes.  In  the  arm — a  flesh  wound.  I  met  him 
riding  through  the  mesquite.  After  I  had  tied  up 
his  wound,  I  took  him  to  Jim's." 

His  eyes  narrowed  slightly.  "So  you  tied  up  his 
wound  ?" 

"Yes,"  she  answered  defiantly,  her  head  up. 

"That  tender  heart  of  yours,"  he  murmured,  with 
almost  a  sneer. 


MAVERICKS  63 


"Yes.    I'm  a  fool." 

He  shrugged  his  shoulders.     "Oh,  well." 

"And  he  pays  me  back  by  trying  to  throw  it  o* 
Phil.  Hunt  him  down,  Brill.  Bring  him  to  me. 
I'll  tell  all  I  know  against  him/'  she  cried  vindic 
tively. 

"I'll  get  him,  Phyl/'  he  promised,  and  the  sound 
of  his  laughter  was  not  pleasant.  "I'll  get  him  for 
you,  or  find  out  why." 

"Think  of  him  trying  to  put  it  on  Phil,  and  after 
I  stood  by  him  and  kept  his  secret.  Isn't  that  the 
worst  ever?"  the  girl  flamed. 

"He  rode  away  not  five  minutes  ago  as  big  as 
coffee  on  that  ugly  roan  of  his  with  the  white 
stockings;  knew  what  we  thought  about  him,  but 
didn't  pay  any  more  attention  to  us  than  as  if  we 
were  bumps  on  a  log." 

Healy  strode  out  to  the  porch,  told  his  story,  and 
within  five  minutes  had  organized  his  posse  and  ap 
pointed  a  rendezvous  for  two  hours  later  at  Seven 
Mile. 

At  the  appointed  time  his  men  were  on  hand,  six 
of  them,  armed  with  rifles  and  revolvers,  ready  for 
grim  business. 

From  her  window  Phyllis  saw  them  ride  away, 
and  persuaded  herself  that  she  was  glad.  Ven 
geance  was  about  to  fall  upon  this  insolent  free 
booter  who  had  not  even  manhood  enough  to  appre 
ciate  a  kindness.  But  as  the  hours  passed  she  was 
beset  by  a  consuming  anxiety.  What  more  likely 


64.  MAVERICKS 


than  that  he  would  resist!  If  so,  there  could  be 
only  one  end.  She  could  not  keep  her  thoughts 
from  those  seven  men  whom  she  had  sent  against 
the  one. 

There  was  nobody  to  whom  she  could  talk  about 
it,  for  Phil  and  her  father  were  away  at  Noches. 
Restless  as  a  caged  panther,  she  twice  had  her  horse 
brought  to  the  door,  and  rode  into  the  hills  to  meet 
her  posse.  But  she  could  not  be  sure  which  way 
they  would  come,  and  after  venturing  a  short  dis 
tance  she  would  return  for  fear  they  might  arrive 
in  her  absence.  Night  had  fallen  over  the  country, 
and  the  stars  were  out  long  before  she  got  back  the 
second  time.  Nine — ten — eleven  o'clock  struck, 
and  still  no  sign  of  those  for  whom  she  waited. 

At  last  they  came,  their  prisoner  riding  in  the 
midst,  bareheaded  and  with  his  hands  tied. 

"I've  got  him,  Phyl !"  Healy  cried  in  a  voice  that 
told  the  girl  he  was  riding  on  a  wave  of  triumph. 

"I  see  you  have." 

Nevertheless  she  looked  not  at  the  victor,  but  at 
the  vanquished,  and  never  had  she  seen  a  man  who 
looked  more  master  of  his  fate  than  this  one.  He 
was  smiling  down  at  her  whimsically,  and  she  saw 
they  had  not  taken  him  without  a  struggle.  The 
marks  of  it  were  on  them  and  on  him.  Healy 's 
cheek  bone  was  laid  open  in  a  nasty  cut,  and  Slim 
had  a  handkerchief  tied  round  his  head. 

As  for  Keller,  his  shirt  was  in  ribbons  and  dyed 
with  the  stains  of  blood  from  the  wound  that  had 


MAVERICKS  65 


broken  out  again  in  the  battle.  The  hair  on  the 
left  side  of  his  head  was  clotted  with  dried  blood, 
and  his  cheeks  were  covered  with  it.  Both  eyes 
were  blacked,  and  hands  and  face  were  scratched 
badly.  But  his  mien  was  as  jaunty,  his  smile  as  gal 
lant,  as  if  he  had  come  at  the  head  of  a  conquering 
army. 

"Good  evenin',  Miss  Sanderson,"  he  bowed 
ironically. 

She  looked  at  him,  and  turned  away  without  an 
swering.  She  heard  Healy  curse  softly  and  knew 
why.  This  man  contrived  somehow  to  rob  him  of 
his  triumph. 

"You  are  none  of  you  hurt,  Brill?"  the  girl  asked 
in  a  low  voice. 

"No.  He  fought  like  a  wild  cat,  but  we  took  him 
by  surprise.  He  had  only  his  bare  fists." 

"How  about  him  ?    Is  he  hurt  ?" 

"I  don't  know — or  care,"  the  man  answered  sul 
lenly. 

"But  he  must  be  looked  to." 

"I  don't  know  why.  It  ain't  my  fault  we  had  to 
beat  him  up." 

"I  didn't  say  it  was  your  fault,  Brill,"  she  an 
swered  gently.  "But  any  one  can  see  he  has  lost 
a  lot  of  blood,  and  his  wounds  are  full  of  dust, 
They  must  be  washed.  I  want  l\m  brought  into 
the  house.  Aunt  Becky  and  I  will  look  after  him.** 

"No  need  of  that.    Slim  will  fix  him  up." 

She  shook  her  head.     "No,  Brill." 


66  MAVERICKS 


His  eyes  gave  way  first,  but  his  surrender  came 
with  a  bad  grace. 

"All  right,  Phyl.  But  he's  going  to  be  covered 
by  a  gun  all  the  time.  I'm  not  taking  chances  on 


"Then  have  him  taken  into  my  den.  I'll  wake 
Aunt  Becky  and  we'll  be  there  in  a  few  minutes." 

When  Phyllis  arrived  with  Aunt  Becky  she  found 
the  nester  sitting  on  the  lounge,  Healy  opposite  him 
with  a  revolver  close  to  his  hand.  The  prisoner's 
arms  had  been  freed.  His  sardonic  smile  still 
twitched  at  the  corners  of  his  mouth. 

"You've  ce'tainly  begun  your  practice  on  a  dis 
reputable  patient,  Doctor  Sanderson.  I  haven't  had 
time  to  comb  my  hair  since  that  little  seance  with 
your  friends.  We  sure  did  have  a  sociable  time. 
They're  all  good  mixers."  He  looked  into  the  long 
glass  opposite,  laughed  at  sight  of  his  swollen  face, 
then  rattled  into  a  misquotation  of  some  verses  he 
remembered  : 

"There's   many  a  black  black  eye,  they  say,  but  none  so 

bright  as  mine; 
•For  I'm  to  be  Queen  o*  the  May,  mother,   I'm  to  be  Queen 

o'   the  May." 

'  "Put  the  water  and  things  down  on  that  table, 
Becky,"  her  mistress  told  her,  ignoring  the  man's 
blithe  folly. 

"I'm  giving  you  lots  of  chances  to  do  the  Good 
Samaritan  act,"  he  continued.  "Honest,  I  hate  to 


MAVERICKS  67 


be  so  much  trouble.  You'll  have  to  blame  Mr. 
Healy.  He's  the  responsible  party  for  these  little 
accidents  of  mine." 

"I'm  going  to  be  responsible  for  one  more,"  the 
stockman  told  him  darkly. 

"I  understand  your  intentions  are  good,  but  Fvej 
noticed  that  sometimes  expectation  outruns  per 
formance,"  his  prisoner  came  back  promptly. 

"Not  this  time,  I  think." 

Phyllis  understood  that  Brill  was  threatening  the 
nester  and  that  the  latter  was  defying  him  lightly, 
but  what  either  meant  precisely  she  did  not  know. 
She  proceeded  to  business  without  a  word  except 
the  necessary  directions  to  Becky.  Not  until  the 
arm  was  dressed  and  the  wound  on  the  head  washed 
and  bandaged  did  she  address  Keller. 

"I'll  send  you  a  powder  that  will  help  you  get  to 
sleep.  The  doctor  left  it  here  for  Phil,  and  he  did 
not  need  it,"  she  said. 

"Mebbe  I  won't  need  it,  either."  Keller  laughed 
hardily,  at  his  enemy  it  seemed  to  the  girl,  and  with 
some  hint  of  a  sinister  understanding  between  them 
from  which  she  was  excluded.  "Thanks  just  the 
same,  for  that  and  for  everything  else  you've  done 
for  me." 

Phyllis  said  "Good  night"  stiffly,  and  followed 
the  old  negress  out.  She  went  directly  to  her  bed 
room,  but  not  to  sleep.  The  night  was  hot,  and  it 
had  been  to  her  a  day  full  of  excitement.  She  had 
much  to  think  of.  Going  to  the  open  window,  she 


68  MAVERICKS 


sat  down  in  a  low  chair  with  her  arms  across  the 
sill. 

Two  men  met  beneath  her  window. 

"Gimme  the  makings,  Slim,"  one  said  to  the 
other. 

While  he  was  shaking  the  tobacco  from  the  pouch 
to  the  paper,  Slim  spoke.  "The  boys  ought  all  to 
be  here  in  another  hour,  Budd.  After  that,  it 
won't  take  us  long/' 

"Not  long,"  the  fat  man  answered  uneasily. 

There  was  a  silence.  Slim  broke  it.  "We  got  to 
do  it,  o'  course." 

"Looks  like.  Got  to  make  an  example.  No 
peace  on  the  range  till  we  do." 

"I  hate  like  sin  to,  Budd.  He's  so  damn 
game." 

"Me,  too.  But  we  got  to.  No  two  ways  about 
it." 

"I  reckon.  Brill  says  so.  But  I  wish  the  cuss 
had  a  chanct  to  fight  for  his  life." 

They  moved  off  together  in  troubled  silence, 
Budd's  cigarette  glowing  red  in  the  darkness.  Be 
hind  them  they  left  a  girl  shocked  and  rigid.  They 
.were  going  to  lynch  him !  She  knew  it  as  certainly 
as  if  she  had  been  told  it  in  set  words.  Her  blood 
grew  cold,  and  she  shivered.  While  the  confused 
horror  of  it  raced  through  her  brain,  she  noticed 
subconsciously  that  her  fingers  on  the  sill  were 
trembling  violently. 

What  could  she  do  ?    She  was  only  a  girl.    These 


MAVERICKS  69 


men  deferred  to  her  in  the  trivial  pleasantries,  but 
she  knew  they  would  go  their  grim  way  no  mat 
ter  how  she  pleaded.  And  it  would  be  her  fault. 
She  had  betrayed  the  rustler  to  them.  It  would  be 
the  same  as  if  she  had  murdered  him.  He  had 
known  while  she  was  tending  his  wounds  that  she 
had  delivered  him  to  death,  and  he  had  not  even  re 
proached  her. 

Courage  flowed  back  to  her  heart.  She  would 
save  him  if  it  were  possible.  It  must  be  by  strat 
egy  if  at  all.  But  how?  For  of  course  he  was 
guarded. 

She  stepped  out  into  the  corridor.  All  was  dark 
there.  She  tiptoed  along  it  to  the  guest  room,  and 
found  the  door  unlocked.  Nobody  was  inside.  She 
canvassed  in  her  mind  the  possibilities.  They  might 
have  him  outdoors  or  in  the  men's  bunk  house  with 
them  under  a  guard,  or  they  might  have  locked  him 
up  somewhere  until  the  arrival  of  the  others.  If 
the  latter,  it  must  be  in  the  store,  since  that  was  the 
only  safe  place  under  lock  and  key. 

Phyllis  slipped  out  of  the  back  door  into  the 
darkness,  and  skirted  the  house  at  a  distance.  There 
were  lights  in  the  bunk  house  of  the  ranch  riders, 
and  through  the  window  she  could  see  a  group 
gathered.  Creeping  close  to  the  window,  she  looked 
in.  Their  prisoner  was  not  with  them.  In  front  of 
the  store  two  men  were  seated  in  the  darkness.  She 
was  almost  upon  them  before  she  saw  them.  Each 
of  them  carried  a  rifle. 


70  MAVERICKS 


"Hello!  Who's  that?"  one  of  them  cried  sharply. 

It  was  Tom  Dixon. 

Phyllis  came  forward  and  spoke.  "That  you, 
Tom?  I  suppose  you  are  guarding  the  prisoner." 

"Yep.  Can't  you  sleep,  Phyl?"  He  walked  a 
dozen  yards  with  her. 

"I  couldn't,  but  I  see  you're  keeping  watch,  all 
right.  I  probably  can  now.  I  suppose  I  was  nerv 
ous." 

"No  wonder.  But  you  may  sleep,  all  right.  He 
won't  trouble  you  any.  I'll  guarantee  that,"  he 
promised  largely.  "Oh,  Phyl!" 

She  had  turned  to  go,  but  she  stopped  at  his  call. 
"Well?" 

"Don't  you  be  mad  at  me.  I  was  only  fooling 
the  other  day.  Course  I  hadn't  ought  to  have  got 
gay.  But  a  fellow  makes  a  break  once  in  a  while." 

Under  the  stress  of  her  deeper  anxiety  she  had 
forgotten  all  about  her  tiff  with  him.  It  had  seemed 
important  at  the  time,  but  since  then  Tom  and  his 
affairs  had  been  relegated  to  second  place  in  her 
mind.  He  was  only  a  boy,  full  of  the  vanity  that 
was  a  part  of  him.  Somehow,  her  anger  against 
him  was  all  burnt  out. 

"If  you  never  will  again,  Tom,"  she  conceded. 

"I'll  be  good,"  he  smiled,  meaning  that  he  would 
be  good  as  long  as  he  must. 

"All  right,"  she  said,  without  much  enthusiasm. 

She  left  him  and  passed  into  the  house  without 
haste.  But  once  inside  she  fairly  flew  to  Phil's 


MAVERICKS  71 


room.  On  a  nail  near  the  head  of  his  bed  hung  a 
key.  She  took  this,  descended  to  the  kitchen,  and 
from  there  noiselessly  down  the  stairway  to  the  cel 
lar.  She  groped  her  way  without  a  light  along  the 
adobe  wall  till  she  came  to  a  door  which  was  un 
locked.  This  opened  into  another  part  of  the  cel 
lar  used  as  a  room  for  storing  supplies  needed  in 
their  trade.  Past  barrels  and  boxes  she  went  to 
another  stairway  and  breathlessly  ascended  it.  At 
the  top  of  eight  or  nine  steps  a  door  barred  prog 
ress.  Very  carefully  she  found  the  keyhole,  fitted 
in  the  key,  and  by  infinitesimal  degrees  unlocked 
the  door. 

The  night  seemed  alive  with  the  noise  of  he* 
movements.  Now  the  door  creaked  as  it  swung 
open  before  her.  She  waited,  heart  beating  like  a 
trip  hammer,  and  stared  into  the  blackness  of  the 
store. 

"Who  is  it  ?"  a  voice  asked  in  a  low  tone. 

"It's  me,  Phyl  Sanderson.  Are  you  alone?"  she 
whispered. 

"Yes.    Tied  to  a  chair.  Guards  are  just  outside." 

She  went  toward  him  softly  with  hands  out 
stretched  in  the  darkness,  and  presently  her  fingers 
touched  his  face.  They  travelled  downward  till 
they  found  the  ropes  which  bound  him.  For  a 
moment  she  fumbled  at  the  knots  before  she  re 
membered  a  swifter  way. 

"Wait,"  she  breathed,  and  stole  back  of  the  coun 
ter  to  the  case  where  pocketknives  were  kept. 


72  MAVERICKS 


Finding  one,  she  ran  to  him  and  hacked  at  the 
rope  till  he  was  free. 

He  rose  and  stretched  his  cramped  limbs. 

"This  way."  Phyllis  took  him  by  the  hand,  and 
led  him  to  the  stairs.  Together  they  descended, 
after  she  had  locked  the  door.  Another  minute, 
..and  they  stood  in  the  kitchen,  still  hand  in  hand. 

The  girl  released  herself.  "You  will  find  Slim's 
horse  tied  to  the  fence  of  the  corral.  When  you 
reach  it,  ride  for  your  life,"  she  said. 

"Why  have  you  saved  me  after  you  betrayed 
me  ?"  he  demanded. 

"I  save  you  because  I  did  betray  you.  I  couldn't 
have  your  blood  on  my  head.  Now,  go/' 

"Not  till  I  know  why  you  betrayed  me." 

"You  can  ask  that."  Her  indignation  gathered 
and  broke.  "Because  you  are  what  you  are.  Be 
cause  I  know  what  you  told  Jim  Yeager  this  after 
noon.  Why  don't  you  go  ?" 

"What  did  I  tell  Yeager?  About  the  knife,  you 
mean?" 

"You  tried  to  lay  it  on  Phil  to  save  yourself." 

"Did  Yeager  tell  you  that?" 

"No,  but  I  know  it."  She  pushed  him  toward  the 
door.  "Go,  while  there  is  still  a  chance." 

"I'm  not  going — not  yet.  Not  till  you  promise 
to  ask  Yeager  what  I  said." 

A  footstep  sounded,  and  the  door  opened.  The 
intruder  stopped,  his  hand  still  on  the  handle,  aware 
that  there  were  others  in  the  room. 


MAVERICKS  73 


"Who  is  it?"  Phyllis  breathed,  stricken  almost 
dumb  with  terror. 

"It's  Slim.     Hope  I  ain't  buttin'  in,  Phyllie." 

Unconsciously  he  had  given  her  the  cue  she 
needed. 

"Well,  you  are."  She  laughed  nervously,  as 
might  a  lover  caught  unexpectedly.  "It's — it's 
Phil,"  she  pretended  to  pretend. 

"Oh,  it's  Phil."  Slim  laughed  in  kindly  derision, 
and  declared  before  he  went  out:  "I  expect  you 
would  spell  his  name  B-r-i-double  1.  Don't  forget 
to  invite  me  to  the  wedding,  Phyllie.  Meanwhile 
I'll  be  mum  as  a  clam  till  you  say  the  word." 

With  which  he  jingled  away.  The  door  was 
scarce  closed  before  the  girl  turned  on  Keller. 

"There !  You  see.  They  may  catch  you  any  mo 
ment." 

"Will  you  ask  Yeager?" 

"Yes,  if  you'll  go." 

"All  right.    I'll  go." 

Still  he  did  not  leave.  The  magic  of  this  slim 
girl  had  swept  him  from  his  feet.  In  imagination 
hs  still  felt  the  touch  of  her  warm  fingers,  soft  as  a 
caress,  the  thrill  of  her  hair  as  it  had  brushed  his 
cheek  when  she  had  stooped  over  him.  The  drag 
of  sex  was  upon  him  and  had  set  him  trembling 
strangely. 

"Why  don't  you  go?"  she  cried  softly. 

He  snatched  himself  away. 

But  before  he  had  reached  the  door  he  came  back 


74-  MAVERICKS 


in  two  strides.  Startled  and  unnerved,  she  waited 
on  him.  He  caught  both  her  hands  in  his,  and 
opened  them  wide  so  that  she  was  drawn  toward 
him  by  the  swing  of  the  motion.  There  for  an  in 
stant  he  stood,  looking  down  into  her  eyes  by  the 
faint  light  that  sifted  through  the  window  upon' 
her. 

"What — what  do  you  want?"  she  demanded 
tremulously,  emotion  flooding  her  in  waves. 

"Why  are  you  saving  me,  girl  ?" 

"I — don't  know.     I've  told  you  why." 

"I'm  a  villain,  by  your  way  of  it,  yet  you  save 
my  life  even  while  you  think  me  a  skunk.  I  can't 
thank  you.  What's  the  use  of  trying?" 

He  looked  down  into  her  eyes,  and  that  gaze  did 
more  than  thank  her.  It  told  her  he  would  never 
forget  and  never  let  her  forget.  How  it  happened 
she  could  not  afterward  remember,  but  she  found 
herself  in  his  arms,  his  kiss  tingling  through  her 
blood  like  wine. 

She  thrust  him  from  her — and  he  was  gone. 

She  sank  into  a  chair^beside  the  kitchen  table, 
her  pulses  athrob  with  excitement.  Scorn  herself 
she  might  and  would  in  good  time,  but  just  now 
her  whole  capacity  for  emotion  was  keyed  to  an 
agony  of  apprehension  for  this  prince  of  scamps. 
By  the  beating  of  her  galloping  heart  she  timed  his 
steps.  He  must  have  reached  the  horse  now.  Al 
ready  he  would  have  it  untied,  would  be  in  the  sad 
dle.  Surely  by  this  time  he  had  eluded  the  sentries 


MAVERICKS  75 


and  was  slipping  out  of  the  danger  zone.     Before 
him  lay  the  open  road,  the  hills,  and  safety. 

A  cry  rang  out  in  the  stillness — and  another.  A 
shot,  the  beat  of  running  feet,  a  panted  oath,  more 
shots !  The  silent  night  had  suddenly  become  vocal 
with  action  and  the  fierce  passions  of  men.  She 
covered  her  face  with  her  hands  to  shut  out  the 
vision  of  what  her  imagination  conjured — a  horse 
flying  with  empty  saddle  into  the  darkness,  while 
a  huddled  figure  sank  together  lifeless  by  the  road 
side. 


CHAPTER  VI 

A  GOOD  FRIEND 

How  long  she  remained  there  Phyllis  did  not 
know.  Fear  drummed  at  her  heart.  She  was  sick 
with  apprehension.  At  last  her  very  terror  drove 
her  out  to  learn  the  worst.  She  walked  round  to 
the  front  of  the  house  and  saw  a  light  in  the  store. 
Swiftly  she  ran  across  and  up  the  steps  to  the  porch. 
Three  men  were  inside  examining  the  empty  chair 
by  the  light  of  a  lantern  one  held  in  his  hand. 

"Did— did  he  get  away?"  the  girl  faltered. 

The  men  turned.  One  of  them  was  Slim.  He 
held  in  his  hand  pieces  of  the  slashed  rope  and  the 
open  pocket-knife  that  had  freed  the  prisoner. 

"Looks  like  it,"  Slim  answered.  "With  some 
help  from  a  friend.  Now,  I  wonder  who  that  use 
ful  friend  was  and  how  in  time  he  got  in  here  ?" 

Her  eyes  betrayed  her.  Just  for  an  instant  they 
swept  to  the  cellar  door,  to  make  sure  it  was  still 
shut.  But  that  one  glance  was  enough.  Slim, 
about  to  speak,  changed  his  mind,  and  stared  at  her 
with  parted  lips.  She  saw  suspicion  grow  in  his 
face  and  resolve  itself  to  certainty,  helped  to  deci 
sion  by  the  telltale  color  dyeing  her  cheeks. 

76 


MAVERICKS  77 


"Does  the  cellar  stairway  from  the  store  connect 
with  the  kitchen  cellar,  Phyllie?"  he  asked. 

"Ye-es." 

He  nodded,  then  laughed  without  mirth.  "I 
reckon  I  can  tell  you,  boys,  who  Mr.  Keller's  friend 
in  need  is." 

"Who?  I'd  like  right  well  to  know."  Brill 
Healy,  in  a  pallid  fury,  had  just  come  in  and  was 
listening. 

Phyllis  turned  and  faced  him.  "I  was  that 
friend,  Brill." 

"You!"  He  stared  at  her  in  astonishment. 
"You!  Why,  it  was  you  sent  me  out  to  run  him 
down." 

"I  didn't  tell  you  that  I  wanted  you  to  murder 
him,  did  I?" 

"I  guess  there's  a  lot  between  him  and  you  that 
you  didn't  tell  me,"  he  jeered. 

Slim  grinned,  not  at  all  maliciously.  "I  reckon 
that's  right.  I  don't  need  to  ask  you  now,  Phyllie, 
who  it  was  I  found  with  you  in  the  kitchen." 

"He  was  just  going,"  she  protested. 

"Sure,  and  I  busted  into  the  good-bys  right  in 
considerate." 

"Go  ahead,  Slim.  I'm  only  a  girl.  You  and 
Brill  say  what  you  like,"  she  flashed  at  him,  the 
nails  of  her  fingers  biting  into  the  palms  of  her 
hands. 

"Only  don't  say  it  out  loud,"  cautioned  a  new 


78  MAVERICKS 


voice.  Jim  Yeager  was  at  the  door,  and  he  was 
looking  very  pointedly  at  Healy. 

"I  say  what  I  think,  Jim,"  Brill  retorted  promptly. 

"And  you  think?" 

Healy  slammed  his  fist  down  hard  on  the  coun 
ter.  "I  think  things  ain't  right  when  a  Malpais 
girl  helps  a  hawss  thief  and  a  rustler  to  escape 
twice." 

''Take  care,   Brill,"  advised  Phyllis. 

"Not  right  how?"  asked  Yeager  quietly,  but  in 
an  ominous  tone. 

"Don't  you  two  go  to  twisting  my  meaning.  All 
Malpais  knows  that  no  better  girl  than  Phyl  San 
derson  ever  breathed." 

The  young  woman's  lip  curled.  "I'm  grateful 
for  this  indorsement,  sir,"  she  murmured  with 
mock  humility. 

"Do  I  understand  that  Keller  has  made  his  get 
away?"  Jim  Yeager  asked. 

"He  sure  has — clean  as  a  whistle." 

"Then  you  idiots  want  to  be  plumb  grateful  to 
Phyllie.  He  ain't  any  more  a  rustler  than  I  am. 
If  you  had  hanged  him  you  would  have  hanged  an 
innocent  man." 

"Prove  it,"  cried  Healy. 

Jim  looked  at  him  quietly.  "I  cayn't  prove  it 
just  now.  You'll  have  to  take  my  word  for  it." 

"Yore  word  goes  with  me,  Jim,  even  if  I  am  an 
idiot  by  yore  say-so,"  his  father  announced 
promptly. 


MAVERICKS  79 


Jim  smiled  and  let  an  arm  fall  across  the  shoul 
ders  of  James  Yeager,  Senior.  "I  ain't  countin' 
you  in  on  that  class,  dad.  You  got  to  trailing  with 
bad  company.  I'll  have  to  bring  you  up  stricter." 

"I  hate  to  be  a  knocker,  Jim,  but  I've  got  to 
trust  my  own  eyes  before  your  indorsement," 
Healy  sneered. 

"That's  your  privilege,  Brill." 

"I  reckon  Jim  knows  what  he's  talking  about," 
said  Yeager,  Senior,  with  intent  to  conciliate. 

"Of  course  I  know  you're  right  friendly  with 
him,  Jim.  There's  nobody  more  competent  to  pass 
an  opinion  on  him.  Like  enough  you  know  all 
about  his  affairs,"  conceded  Healy  with  polite 
malice. 

The  two  young  men  were  looking  at  each  other 
steadily.  They  never  had  been  friends,  and  lately 
they  had  been  a  good  deal  less  than  that.  Rival 
leaders  of  the  range  for  years,  another  cause  had 
lately  fanned  their  rivalry  to  a  flame.  Now  a  chal 
lenge  had  been  flung  down  and  accepted. 

"I  expect  I  know  more  about  them  than  you  do, 
Brill." 

"Sure  you  do.  Ain't  he  just  got  through  being 
your  guest?  Didn't  he  come  visiting  you  in  a 
hurry?  Didn't  you  tie  up  his  wound?  And  when 
Phil  and  I  came  asking  questions  didn't  you  ante 
date  his  arrival  about  six  hours?  I'm  not  denying 
you  know  all  about  him.  What  I'm  wondering  is 
why  you  didn't  tell  all  you  knew.  Of  course,  I  un- 


80  MAVERICKS 


der stand  they  are  your  reasons,  though,  not  mine." 

"You've  said  it.     They're  my  reasons." 

"I  ain't  saying  they  are  not  good  reasons.  Why- 
for  should  a  man  round  on  his  friend?" 

The  innuendo  was  plain,  and  Yeager  put  it  into 
words.  "I'd  be  right  proud  to  have  him  for  a 
friend.  But  we  all  know  what  you  mean,  Brill.  Go 
right  ahead.  Try  and  persuade  the  boys  I'm  a  rus 
tler,  too.  They  haven't  known  me  on  an  average 
much  over  twenty  years.  But  that  doesn't  matter. 
They're  so  durned  teachable  to-day  maybe  you  can 
get  them  to  swallow  that  with  the  rest." 

With  which  parting  shot  he  followed  Phyllis 
out  of  the  store.  She  turned  on  him  at  the  top  of 
the  porch  steps  leading  to  the  house, 

"Did  he  tell  you  that  Phil  was  the  rustler?" 

"You  mean  did  Keller  tell  me?"  he  said,  sur 
prised. 

"Yes.  'Rastus  was  in  the  live  oak  and  heard  all 
you  said." 

"No.  He  didn't  tell  me  that.  We  neither  of  us 
think  it  was  Phil.  It  couldn't  be,  for  he  was  riding 
with  you  at  the  time.  But  he  found  your  knife 
there  by  the  dead  cow.  Now,  how  did  it  come* 
there?  You  let  Phil  have  the  knife.  Had  he  lent 
his  knife  to  some  one?" 

"I  don't  know."  She  went  on,  after  a  momen 
tary  hesitation:  "Are  you  quite  sure,  Jim,  that  he 
really  found  the  knife  there?" 

"He  said  so.     I  believe  him." 


MAVERICKS  81 


She  sighed  softly,  as  if  she  would  have  liked  to 
feel  as  sure.  "The  reason  I  spoke  of  it  was  that  I 
accused  him  of  trying  to  throw  the  blame  on  Phil, 
and  he  told  me  to  ask  you  about  it." 

Jim  shook  his  head.  "Nothing  to  it.  If  you 
want  my  opinion,  Keller  is  white  clear  enough.  He 
wouldn't  try  a  trick  like  that." 

The  girl's  face  lit,  and  she  held  out  an  impulsive 
hand.  "Anyhow,  you're  a  good  friend,  Jim." 

"I've  been  that  ever  since  you  was  knee  high  to 
a  duck,  Phyl." 

"Yes — yes,  you  have.  The  best  I've  got,  next  to 
Phil  and  Dad."  Her  heart  just  now  was  very  warm 
to  him. 

"Don't  you  reckon  maybe  a  good  friend  might 
make  a  good — something  else." 

She  gasped.     "Oh,  Jim!    You  don't  mean " 

"Yep.  That's  what  I  do  mean.  Course  I'm  not 
good  enough.  I  know  that." 

"Good.  You're  the  best  ever.  It  isn't  that.  Only 
I  don't  like  you  that  way." 

"Maybe  you  might  some  day." 

She  shook  her  head  slowly.  "I  wish  I  could, 
'Jim.  But  I  never  will." 

"Is  there— someone  else,   Phyl?" 

If  it  had  been  light  enough  he  could  have  seen 
a  wave  of  color  sweep  her  face. 

tclVTo.  Of  course  there  isn't.  How  could  there 
be?  I'm  only  a  girl." 

"It  ain't  Brill  then?" 


MAVERICKS 


"No.  It's— it  isn't  anybody/'  She  carried  the 
war,  womanlike,  into  his  camp.  "And  I  don't  be 
lieve  you  care  for  me — that  way.  It's  just  a  fancy." 

"One  I've  had  two  years,  little  girl." 

"Oh,  I'm  sorry.  I  do  like  you,  better  than  any 
jone  else.  You  know  that,  dear  old  Jim." 

He  smiled  wistfully.  "If  you  didn't  like  me  so 
well  I  reckon  I'd  have  a  better  chance.  Well,  I 
mustn't  keep  you  here.  Good  night." 

Her  fingers  were  lost  in  his  big  fist.  "Good 
night,  Jim."  And  again  she  added,  "I'm  so  sorry." 

"Don't  you  be.  It's  all  right  with  me,  Phyl.  I 
just  thought  I'd  mention  it.  You  never  can  tell, 
though  I  most  knew  how  it  would  be.  Buenos 
noches,  nina." 

He  released  her  hand,  and  without  once  looking 
back  strode  to  his  horse,  swung  to  the  saddle,  and 
rode  into  the  night. 

She  carried  into  the  house  with  her  a  memory 
of  his  cheerful  smile.  It  had  been  meant  as  a  re 
assurance  to  her.  It  told  her  he  would  get  over  it, 
and  she  knew  he  would.  For  he  was  no  puling 
schoolboy,  but  a  man,  game  to  the  core. 

The  face  of  another  man  rose  before  her,  satur- 
inine  and  engaging  and  debonair.  With  the  picture 
'came  wave  on  wave  of  shame.  He  was  a  detected 
villain,  and  she  had  let  him  kiss  her.  But  beneath 
the  self -scorn  was  something  new,  something  that 
stung  her  blood,  that  left  her  flushed  and  tingling 
with  her  first  experience  of  sex  relations. 


MAVERICKS  83 


A  week  ago  she  had  not  yet  emerged  fully  from 
the  chrysalis  of  childhood.  But  in  the  Southland 
flowers  ripen  fast.  Adolescence  steals  hard  upon 
the  heels  of  infancy.  Nature  was  pushing  her  re 
lentlessly  toward  a  womanhood  for  which  her 
''splendid  vitality  and  unschooled  impulses  but  scant 
ily  safeguarded  her.  The  lank,  shy  innocence  of 
the  fawn  still  wrapped  her,  but  in  the  heart  of  this 
frank  daughter  of  the  desert  had  been  born  a  poign 
ant  shyness,  a  vague,  delightful  trembling  that 
marked  a  change.  A  quality  which  had  lain  banked 
in  her  nature  like  a  fire  since  childhood  now  threw 
forth  its  first  flame  of  heat.  At  sunset  she  had 
been  still  treading  the  primrose  path  of  youth;  at 
sunrise  she  had  entered  upon  the  world-old  heritage 
ef  her  sex. 


CHAPTER   VII 

A  SHOT  FROM   AMBUSH 

From  the  valley  there  drifted  up  a  breeze-swept 
sound.  The  rider  on  the  rock-rim  trail  above,  shift 
ing  in  his  saddle  to  one  of  the  easy,  careless  atti 
tudes  of  the  habitual  horseman,  recognized  it  as  a 
rifle  shot. 

Presently,  from  a  hidden  wash  rose  little  balloon- 
like  puffs  of  smoke,  followed  by  a  faint,  far  pop 
ping,  as  if  somebody  had  touched  off  a  bunch  of 
firecrackers.  Men  on  horseback,  dwarfed  by  dis 
tance  to  pygmy  size,  clambered  to  the  bank — now 
one  and  then  another  firing  into  the  mesquite  that 
ran  like  a  broad  tongue  from  the  roll  of  hills  into 
the  valley. 

<rLooks  like  something's  broke  loose/'  the  young 
man  drawled  aloud.  "The  band's  sure  playing  a 
right  lively  tune  this  glad  mo'ning." 

Save  for  one  or  two  farewell  shots,  the  firing 
ceased.  The  riders  had  disappeared  into  the  chap 
arral. 

The  rider  did  not  need  to  be  told  that  this  was  a 
man  hunt,  destined  perhaps  to  be  one  of  a  hundred 

84 


MAVERICKS  85 


unwritten  desert  tragedies.  Some  subtle  instinct  in 
him  differentiated  between  these  hurried  shots  and 
those  born  of  the  casual  exuberance  of  the  cow- 
puncher  at  play.  He  had  a  reason  for  taking  an 
interest  in  it — an  interest  that  was  more  than  casual. 

Skirting  the  rim  of  the  saucer-shaped  valley,  he 
rode  forward  warily,  came  at  length  to  a  canon 
that  ran  like  a  sword  cleft  into  the  hills,  and  de 
scended  cautiously  by  a  cattle  trail,  its  scarred  slope. 

Through  the  defile  ran  a  mountain  stream,  splash 
ing  over  and  round  boulders  in  its  swift  fall. 

"I  reckon  we'll  slide  down,  Keno,  and  work  out 
close  to  the  fire  zone,"  the  rider  said  to  his  horse, 
as  they  began  to  slither  down  the  precipitous  slope, 
starting  rubble  at  every  motion. 

Man  and  horse  were  both  of  the  frontier,  fit  to 
the  minute  for  any  call  that  might  be  made  on  them. 
The  broncho  was  a  roan,  with  muscles  of  elastic 
leather,  sure-footed  as  a  mountain  goat.  Its  mas 
ter — a  slim,  brown  man,  of  medium  height,  well 
knit  and  muscular — looked  on  the  world,  quietly 
and  often  humorously,  with  shrewd  gray  eyes. 

As  he  reached  the  bottom  of  the  gulch,  his  glance 
fell  upon  another  rider — a  woman.  She  crossed  the 
stream  hurriedly,  her  pony  flinging  water  at  every 
step,  and  cantered  up  toward  him. 

Her  glance  was  once  and  again  over  her  shoul 
der,  so  that  it  was  not  until  she  was  almost  upon 
him  that  she  saw  the  young  man  among  the  cotton- 
woods,  and  drew  her  pony  to  an  instant  halt.  The 


86  MAVERICKS 


rifle  that  had  been  lying  across  her  saddle  leaped 
halfway  to  her  shoulder,  covering  him  instantly. 

"Buenos  dios,  senorita.  Are  you  going  for  to 
shoot  my  head  off?"  he  drawled. 

"The  rustler!"  she  cried. 

"The  alleged  rustler,  Miss  Sanderson,"  he  cor 
rected  gently. 

"Let  me  past,"  she  panted. 

He  observed  that  her  eyes  mirrored  terror  of 
the  scene  she  had  just  left. 

"It's  you  that  has  got  the  drop  on  me,  isn't  it?" 
he  suggested. 

The  rifle  went  back  to  the  saddle.  Instantly  the 
girl  was  in  motion  again,  flying  up  the  canon  past 
the  white-stockinged  roan,  her  pony's  hindquarters 
gathered  to  take  the  sheep  trail  like  those  of  a  wild 
cat. 

Keller  gazed  after  her.  As  she  disappeared,  he 
took  off  his  hat,  bowed  elaborately,  and  remarked 
to  himself,  in  his  low,  soft  drawl : 

"Good  mo'ning,  ma'am.  See  you  again  one  of 
these  days,  mebbe,  when  you  ain't  in  such  a  hurry." 

But  though  he  appeared  to  take  the  adventure 
whimsically  his  mind  was  busy  with  its  meaning. 
She  was  in  danger,  and  he  must  save  her.  So  much 
he  knew  at  least. 

He  had  scarcely  turned  the  head  of  his  horse 
toward  the  mouth  of  the  canon  when  the  pursuit 
drove  headlong  into  sight.  Galloping  men  pounded 
up  the  arroyo,  and  came  to  halt  at  his  sharp  sum- 


MAVERICKS  87 


mons.  Already  Keller  and  his  horse  were  behind 
a  huge  boulder,  over  the  top  of  which  gleamed  the 
short  barrel  of  a  wicked-looking  gun. 

"Mornin',  gentlemen.  Lost  something  up  this 
gulch,  have  you?"  he  wanted  to  know  amiably. 

The  last  rider,  coming  to  a  gingerly  halt  in  order 
not  to  jar  an  arm  bandaged  roughly  in  a  polka-dot 
bandanna,  swore  roundly.  He  was  a  large,  heavy- 
set  man,  still  on  the  sunny  side  of  forty,  imperious, 
a  born  leader,  and,  by  the  look  of  him,  not  one 
lightly  to  be  crossed. 

"He's  our  man,  boys.  We'll  take  him  alive  if  we 
can;  but,  dead  or  alive,  he's  ours."  He  gave  crisp 
orders. 

"Oh!  It's  me  you've  lost?  Any  reward?"  in 
quired  the  man  behind  the  rock. 

For  answer,  a  bullet  flattened  itself  against  the 
boulder.  The  wounded  man  had  whipped  up  a 
rifle  and  fired. 

Keller  called  out  a  genial  warning.  "I  wouldn't 
do  that.  There's  too  many  of  you  bunched  close 
together,  and  this  old  gun  spatters  like  hail.  You 
see,  it's  loaded  with  buckshot." 

One  of  the  cowboys  laughed.  He  was  rather  a 
cool  hand  himself,  but  such  audacity  as  this  was 
new  to  him. 

"What's  ailing  you,  Pesky  ?  It  don't  strike  me  as 
being  so  damned  amusing,"  growled  his  leader. 

"Different  here,  Buck.    I  was  just  grinning  be- 


88  MAVERICKS 


cause  he's  such  a  cheerful  guy.  Of  course,  I  ain't 
got  one  of  his  pills  in  my  arm,  like  you  have." 

"He  won't  be  so  gay  about  it  when  he's  down, 
with  a  couple  of  bullets  through  him,"  predicted  the 
other  grimly.  "But  we'll  take  his  advice,  just  the 
same.  You  boys  scatter.  Cross  the  creek  and 
sneak  up  along  the  other  wall,  Ned.  Curly,  you  and 
Irwin  climb  up  this  side  until  you  get  him  in  sight. 
Pesky  and  I  will  stay  here." 

"Hold  on  a  minute!  Let's  get  at  the  rights  of 
this.  What's  all  the  row  about?"  the  cornered  man 
wanted  to  know. 

"You  know  dashed  well  what  it's  about,  you 
blanked  bushwhacker.  But  you  didn't  shoot 
straight  enough,  and  you  didn't  fix  it  so  you  could 
make  your  getaway.  I'm  going  to  hang  you  high 
as  Haman." 

"Thank  you.  But  your  intentions  aren't  directed 
to  the  right  man.  I'm  a  stranger  in  this  country. 
Whyfor  should  I  want  to  shoot  you?" 

"A  stranger.  Where  from?"  demanded  Buck 
Weaver  crisply. 

"Douglas." 

"What  doing  here?" 

"Homesteading." 

"Name?" 

"Keller." 

"Killer,  you  mean,  I  reckon.  You're  a  hired  as 
sassin,  brought  in  to  shoot  me.  That's  what  you 


are." 


MAVERICKS  89 


"No." 

"Yes.  The  man  we  want  came  into  this  gulch, 
not  three  minutes  ahead  of  us.  If  you're  not  the 
man,  where  is  he  ?" 

"I  haven't  got  him  in  my  vest  pocket." 

"I  reckon  you've  got  him  right  there  in  your 
coat  and  pants." 

"I  ain't  so  dead  sure,  Buck,"  spoke  up  Pesky. 
'We  didn't  see  the  man  so  as  to  know  him." 

"Riding  a  roan,  wasn't  he?"  snapped  the  owner 
of  the  Twin  Star  outfit. 

"Looked  that  way,"  admitted  the  cowpuncher. 

"Well,  then?" 

"Keller !  Why,  that's  the  name  given  by  the  rus 
tler  who  broke  away  from  us  two  weeks  ago," 
Curly  spoke  out. 

"No  use  jawing.  I'm  going  to  hang  his  skin  up 
to  dry,"  Weaver  ground  out  between  set  teeth. 

"By  his  own  way  of  it,  he's  only  one  of  them 
dashed  nesters,"  Irwin  added. 

Keller  was  putting  two  and  two  together,  in 
amazement.  The  would-be  assassin  had,  during  the 
past  few  minutes,  been  driven  into  this  gulch,  rid- 
jing  a  roan  horse.  He  could  swear  that  only  one 
person  had  come  in  before  these  pursuers — and  that 
one  was  a  woman  on  a  roan.  Her  frightened  eyes, 
the  fear  that  showed  in  every  motion,  her  hurried 
flight,  all  contributed  to  the  same  inevitable  con 
clusion.  It  was  difficult  to  believe  it,  but  impos 
sible  to  deny.  This  wild,  sylvan  creature,  with  the 


90  MAVERICKS 


shy,  wonderful  eyes,  had  lain  in  ambush  to  kill  her 
father's  enemy,  and  was  flying  from  the  vengeance 
on  her  heels. 

His  lips  were  sealed.  Even  if  he  were  not  under 
heavy  obligations  to  her  he  could  no  more  save  him 
self  at  the  expense  of  this  brown  sylph  than  he  could 
have  testified  against  his  own  mother. 

"All  right.  If  you  feel  lucky,  come  on.  You'll 
get  me,  of  course,  but  it  may  prove  right  expen 
sive,"  he  said  quietly. 

"That's  all  right.  We're  footing  our  end  of  the 
bill/'  Pesky  retorted. 

By  this  time,  he  and  Weaver  had  dismounted, 
and  were  sheltered  behind  rocks.  Already  bullets 
were  beginning  to  spit  back  and  forth,  though  the 
flankers  had  not  yet  got  into  action. 

"Burn  his  hide,  I  hate  like  sin  to  puncture  it," 
Pesky  told  his  boss.  "I  tell  you  we're  making  a 
mistake,  Buck.  This  fellow's  a  pure — he  ain't  any 
hired  killer.  You  can  tie  to  that." 

"He's  the  man  that  pumped  a  bullet  into  my  arm 
from  ambush.  That's  enough  for  me,"  the  cattle 


man  swore. 
u 


No  use  being  revengeful,  especially  if  it  hap-  f 
pens  he  ain't  the  man.    By  his  say-so,  that's  a  shot-  ,l 
gun    he's    carrying.      Loaded    with    buckshot,    he*- 
claims.     What  hit  you  was  a  bullet  from  a  Win 
chester,  or  some  such  gun.     Mighty  easy  to  prove 
whether  he's  lying." 

"We'll  be  able  to  prove  it  afterward,  all  right." 


MAVERICKS  91 


"What's  the  matter  with  proving  it  now?  I  don't 
stand  for  any  murder  business  myself.  I'm  going 
to  find  out  what's  what." 

The  cow-puncher  tied  the  red  bandanna  from 
his  neck  round  the  end  of  his  revolver,  and  shoved 
it  above  the  rock  in  front  of  him. 

"Flag  of  truce!"  he  shouted. 

"All  right.  Come  right  along.  Better  leave  your 
gun  behind,"  Keller  called  back. 

Pesky  waddled  forward — a  short,  thick-set,  bow- 
legged  man  in  chaps,  spurs,  flannel  shirt,  and  white 
sombrero.  When  he  took  off  this  last,  as  he  did 
now,  it  revealed  a  head  bald  as  a  billiard  ball. 

"How're  they  coming?"  he  inquired  genially  of 
the  besieged  man,  as  he  rounded  the  rock  barricade. 

Larrabie's  steel  eyes  relaxed  to  a  hint  of  a 
friendly  smile.  He  knew  this  type  of  man  like  a 
brother. 

"Fine  and  dandy  here.  Hope  you're  well  your 
self,  seh." 

"Tol'able.  Buck's  up  on  his  ear,  o'  course.  Can't 
blame  him,  can  you?  Most  any  man  would,  with 
that  kind  of  a  pill  sent  to  his  address  so  sudden  by 
special  delivery.  Wasn't  that  some  inconsiderate 
of  you,  Mr.  Keller?" 

"I  thought  I  explained  it  was  another  party  did 
that." 

Pesky  rolled  a  cigarette  and  lit  it. 

"Right  sure  of  that,  are  you?  Wouldn't  mind 
my  taking  a  look  at  that  gun  of  yours?  You  see, 


92  MAVERICKS 


if  it  happens  to  be  what  you  said  it  was,  that  kinder 
lets  you  out." 

Keller  handed  over  the  gun  promptly.  The  cow- 
puncher  broke  it,  extracted  a  shell,  and  with  his 
knife  picked  out  the  wad.  Into  his  palm  rolled  a 
dozen  buckshot. 

"Good  enough !  I  told  Buck  he  was  barking  up 
the  wrong  tree.  Now,  I'll  go  back  and  have  a  pow 
wow  with  him.  I  reckon  you'll  be  willing  to  sur 
render  on  guarantee  of  a  square  deal?" 

"Sure — that's  all  I  ask.  I  never  met  your  friend 
— didn't  know  who  he  was  from  Adam.  I  ain't  got 
any  option  to  shoot  all  the  red-haided  men  I  meet. 
No,  sir!  You've  followed  a  cross  trail." 

"Looks  like.  Still,  it's  blamed  funny."  Pesky 
scratched  his  shining  poll,  and  looked  shrewdly  at 
the  other.  "We  certainly  ran  Mr.  Bushwhacker 
into  the  canon.  I'd  swear  to  that.  We  was  right 
on  m's  heels,  though  we  couldn't  see  him  very  well. 
But  he  either  come  in  here  or  a  hole  in  the  ground 
swallowed  him." 

He  waited  tentatively  for  an  answer,  but  none 
came  other  than  the  white-toothed  smile  that  met 
him  blandly. 

"I  reckon  you  know  more  than  you  aim  to  tell, 
Mr.  Keller,"  continued  Pesky.  "Don't  you  figure 
it's  up  to  you,  if  we  let  you  out  of  this  thing,  to 
whack  up  any  information  you've  got?  The  kind 
of  reptile  that  kills  from  ambush  don't  deserve  any 
consideration." 


MAVERICKS  93 


Half  an  hour  ago,  the  other  would  have  agreed 
with  him.  The  man  that  shot  his  enemy  from  cover 
was  a  coyote — nothing  less.  But  about  that  brown 
slip  of  a  creature,  who  had  for  three  minutes 
crossed  his  orbit,  he  wanted  to  reserve  judgment. 

"I  expect  I  haven't  got  a  thing  to  tell  you  that 
would  help  any,"  he  drawled,  his  eye  full  on  that 
of  the  cowpuncher. 

Pesky  threw  away  his  cigarette.  "All  right. 
You're  the  doctor.  I'll  amble  back,  and  report  to 
the  boss." 

He  did  so,  with  the  result  that  a  truce  was  ar 
ranged. 

Keller  gave  up  his  post  of  vantage,  and  came  for 
ward  to  surrender. 

Weaver  met  him  with  a  hard,  wintry  eye.  "Un 
derstand,  I  don't  concede  your  innocence.  You're 
my  prisoner,  and,  by  God,  if  I  get  any  more  proof 
of  your  guilt,  you've  got  to  stand  the  gaff." 

The  other  nodded  quietly,  meeting  him  eye  to 
eye.  Nor  did  his  gaze  fall,  though  the  big  cattle 
man  was  the  most  masterful  man  on  the  range. 
Keller  was  as  easy  and  unperturbed  as  when  he  had 
been  holding  half  a  dozen  irate  men  at  bay. 

"No  kick  coming  here.  But,  if  it's  just  the  same 
to  you,  I'll  ask  you  to  get  the  proof  first  and  hang 
me  afterward." 

"If  you're  homesteading,  where's  your  place," 

"Back  in  the  hills,  close  to  the  headwaters  Q£ 
Salt  Creek." 


94  MAVERICKS 


"Huh!  You'll  make  that  good  before  I  get 
through  with  you.  And  I  want  to  tell  you  this,  too, 
Mr.  Keller.  It  doesn't  make  any  hit  with  me  that 
you're  one  of  those  thieving  nesters.  Moreover, 
there's  another  charge  against  you.  In  the  Malpais 
country  we  hang  rustlers.  The  boys  claim  to  havef 
you  cinched.  We'll  see." 

"Who's  that  with  Curly?"  Pesky  called  out. 
"By  Moses,  it's  a  woman!" 

"It  is  the  Sanderson  girl,"  Weaver  said  in  sur 
prise. 

Keller  swung  round  as  if  worked  by  a  spring. 
The  cow-puncher  had  told  the  truth.  Curly's  com 
panion  was  not  only  a  woman,  but  the  woman — the 
same  slim,  tanned  creature  who  had  flashed  past 
him  on  a  wild  race  for  safety,  only  a  few  minutes 
earlier. 

All  eyes  were  focused  upon  her.  Weaver  waited 
for  her  to  speak.  Instead,  Curly  took  up  the  word. 
He  was  smiling  broadly,  quite  unaware  of  the  mine 
he  was  firing. 

"I  found  this  young  lady  up  on  the  rock  rim. 
Since  we  were  rounding  up,  I  thought  I'd  bring  her 
down." 

"Good  enough.  Miss  Sanderson,  you've  been, 
where  you  could  see  if  anyone  passed  into  the 
canon.  How  about  it?  Anybody  go  up  in  last  ten 
minutes  ?" 

Phyllis  moistened  her  dry  lips  and  looked  at  the 
prisoner.  "No,"  she  answered  reluctantly. 


MAVERICKS  95 


Weaver  wheeled  on  Keller,  his  eyes  hard  as  jade. 
"That  ties  the  rope  round  your  neck,  my  man." 

"No,"  Phyllis  cried.     "He  didn't  do  it." 

The  cattleman's  stone  wall  eyes  were  on  her  now. 

"Didn't?    How  do  you  know  he  didn't?" 
,     "Because  I — I  passed  him  here  as  I  rode  up  a 
few  minutes  ago." 

"So  you  rode  up  a  few  minutes  ago."  Buck'? 
lids  narrowed.  "And  he  was  here,  was  he?  Evei 
meet  Mr.  Keller  before?" 

"Yes." 

"When?    Speak  up.     Mind,  no  lying." 

This  struck  the  first  spark  of  spirit  from  her. 
The  deep  eyes  flashed.  "I'm  not  in  the  habit  of 
lying,  sir." 

"Then  answer  my  question." 

"I've  met  him  at  the  office  when  he  came  for  his 
mail.  And  the  boys  arrested  him  by  mistake  for  a 
rustler.  I  saw  him  when  they  brought  him  in." 

"By  mistake.  How  do  you  know  it  was  by  mis 
take?" 

"It  was  I  accused  him.  But  I  did  it  because  I 
was  angry  at  him." 

"You  accused  an  innocent  man  of  rustling  be 
cause  you  were  sore  at  him.  You're  ce'tainly  a 
pleasant  young  lady,  Miss  Sanderson." 

Her  look  flashed  defiance  at  him,  but  she  said 
nothing.  In  her  slim  erectness  was  a  touch  of 
feminine  ferocity  that  gave  him  another  idea. 

"So  you  just  rode  into  the  canon,  did  you?" 


96  MAVERICKS 


"Yes." 

"Meet  up  with  anybody  in  the  valley  before  you 
came  in?" 

"No." 

His  eyes  were  like  steel  drills.  They  never  left 
her.  "Quite  sure?" 

"Yes." 

"What  were  you  doing  there  ?" 

She  had  no  answer  ready.  Her  wild  look  went 
round  in  search  of  a  friend  in  this  circle  of  enemies. 
They  found  him  in  the  man  who  was  a  prisoner. 
His  steadfast  eyes  told  her  to  have  no  fear. 

"Did  you  hear  what  I  said?"  demanded  Weaver. 

"I  was — riding." 

"Alone?" 

The  answer  came  so  slowly  that  it  was  barely 
audible.  "Yes." 

"Riding  in  Antelope  Valley?" 

"Yes." 

"Let  me  see  that  gun."  Weaver  held  out  his 
hand  for  the  rifle. 

Phyllis  looked  at  him  and  tried  to  fight  against 
his  domination;  then  slowly  she  handed  him  the 
rifle.  He  broke  and  examined  it.  From  the  cham-^ 
ber  he  extracted  an  empty  shell. 

Grim  as  a  hanging  judge,  his  look  chiselled  into 
her. 

"I  expect  the  lead  that  was  in  here  is  in  my  arm. 
Isn't  that  right?" 

"I — I  don't  know/ 


MAVERICKS  97 


"Who  does,  then?  Either  you  shot  me  or  you 
know  who  did." 

Her  gaze  evaded  his,  but  was  forced  at  last  to  the 
meeting. 

"I  did  it." 

She  was  looking  at  him  steadily  now.  Since  the 
thing  must  be  faced,  she  had  braced  herself  to  it. 
It  was  amazing  what  defiant  pluck  shone  out  of  her 
soft  eyes.  This  man  of  iron  saw  it,  and,  seeing, 
admired  hugely  the  gameness  that  dwelt  in  her  slim 
body.  But  none  of  his  admiration  showed  in  the 
hard,  weather-beaten  face. 

"So  they  make  bushwhackers  out  of  even  the 
girls  among  your  rustling,  sheep-herding  outfit!" 
he  taunted. 

"My  people  are  not  rustlers.  They  have  a  right 
to  be  on  earth,  even  if  you  don't  want  them  there." 

"I'll  show  them  what  rights  they  have  got  in 
this  part  of  the  country  before  I  get  through  with 
them.  But  that  ain't  the  point  now.  What  I  want 
to  know  is  how  they  came  to  send  a  girl  to  do  their 
dirty  killing  for  them." 

"They  didn't  send  me.  I  just  saw  you,  and — 
and  shot  on  an  impulse.  Your  men  have  clubbed 
and  poisoned  our  sheep.  They  wounded  one  of 
our  herders,  and  beat  his  brother  when  they  caught 
him  unarmed.  They  have  done  a  hundred  mean 
and  brutal  things.  You  are  at  the  bottom  of  it  all ; 
and  when  I  saw  you  riding  there,  looking  like  the 
lord  of  all  the  earth,  I  iust " 


98  MAVERICKS 


"Well?" 

"Couldn't  help— what  I  did." 

"You're  a  nicely  brought  up  young  woman — 
about  as  savage  as  the  rest  of  your  wolf  breed," 
jeered  Weaver. 

Yet  he  exulted  in  her — in  the  impulse  of  ferocity 
that  had  made  her  strike  swiftly,  regardless  of 
risk  to  herself,  at  the  man  who  had  hounded  and 
harried  her  kin  to  the  feud  that  was  now  raging. 
Her  shy,  untamed  beauty  would  not  itself  have  at 
tracted  him;  but  in  combination  with  her  fierce 
courage  it  made  to  him  an  appeal  which  he  con 
ceded  grudgingly. 

"What  in  Heaven's  name  brought  you  back  after 
you  had  once  got  away?"  Weaver  asked. 

The  girl  looked  at  Keller  without  answering. 

"I  reckon  I  can  tell  you  that,  seh,"  explained 
that  young  man.  "She  figured  you  would  jump  on 
me  as  the  guilty  party.  It  got  on  her  conscience 
that  she  had  left  an  innocent  man  to  stand  for  it. 
I  shouldn't  wonder  but  she  got  to  seeing  a  picture 
of  you-all  hanging  me  or  shooting  me  up.  So  she 
came  back  to  own  up,  if  she  saw  you  had  caught 
inc." 

Weaver  nodded.  "That's  the  way  I  figure  it,  too. 
Gamest  thing  I  ever  saw  a  woman  do,"  he  said  in 
an  undertone  to  Keller,  with  whom  he  was  now 
standing  a  little  apart. 

The  latter  agreed.     "Never  saw  the  beat  of  it 


MAVERICKS  99 


She's  scared  stiff,  too.     Makes  it  all  the  pluckier. 
What  will  you  do  with  her?" 

"Take  her  along  with  me  back  to  the  ranch." 

"I  wouldn't  do  that,"  said  the  young  man  quickly. 

"Wouldn't  you  ?"  Weaver's  hard  gaze  went  over 
him  haughtily.  "When  I  want  your  advice,  I'll  ask 
you  for  it,  young  man.  You're  in  luck  to  get  off 
scot-free  yourself.  That  ought  to  content  you  for 
one  day." 

"But  what  are  you  going  to  do  with  her  ?  Surely 
not  have  her  imprisoned  for  attacking  you?" 

"I'll  do  as  I  dashed  please,  and  don't  you  forgei 
it,  Mr.  Keller.  Better  mind  your  own  business,  if 
you've  got  any." 

With  which  Buck  Weaver  turned  on  his  heel, 
and  swung  slowly  to  the  saddle.  His  arm  was 
paining  him  a  great  deal,  but  he  gave  no  sign  of  it 
He  expected  his  men  to  game  it  out  when  they  rar 
into  bad  luck,  and  he  was  stoic  enough  to  set  them 
an  example  without  making  any  complaints. 

The  little  group  of  riders  turned  down  the  trail, 
passed  through  the  gateway  that  led  to  the  valley 
below,   and  wound  down   among  the  cow-backed 
hills  toward  the  ranch  roofs,  which  gleamed  in  the 
distance.     They  were  the  houses  of  the  Twin  Starj 
outfit,  the  big  concern  owned   by  Buck   Weaver,1 
whose  cattle  fed  literally  upon  a  thousand  hills. 

It  suited  Buck's  ironic  humor  to  ride  beside  the 
girl  who  had  just  attempted  his  life.  He  bore  her 


\ 


100  MAVERICKS 


no  resentment.  Had  the  offender  been  a  man,  Buck 
would  have  snuffed  out  his  life  with  as  little  re 
morse  as  he  would  a  guttering  candle.  But  her 
sex  and  her  youth,  and  some  quality  of  charm  in 
her,  had  altered  the  equation.  He  meant  to  show 
her  who  was  master,  but  he  would  choose  a  differ 
ent  method. 

What  sport  to  tame  the  spirit  of  this  wild  desert 
beauty  until  she  should  come  like  one  of  her  own 
sheep  dogs  at  his  beck  and  call !  He  had  never  yet 
met  the  woman  he  could  not  dominate.  This  one, 
too,  would  know  a  good  many  new  emotions  before 
she  rejoined  her  tribe  in  the  hills. 

He  swung  from  the  saddle  at  the  ranch  plaza, 
and  greeted  her  with  a  deep  bow  that  mocked  her. 

"Welcome,  Miss  Sanderson,  to  the  best  the  Twin 
Star  outfit  has  to  offer.  I  hope  you  will  enjoy  your 
visit,  which  is  going  to  be  a  long  one." 

To  a  Mexican  woman,  who  had  come  out  to  the 
porch  in  answer  to  his  call,  he  delivered  the  girl, 
charging  her  duty  in  two  quick  sentences  of  Span 
ish.  The  woman  nodded  her  understanding,  and 
led  Phyllis  inside. 

Weaver  noticed  with  delight  that  his  captive's 
eye  met  his  steadily,  with  the  defiant  fierceness  of 
some  hunted  wild  thing.  Here  was  a  woman  worth 
taming,  even  though  she  was  still  a  girl  in  years. 
His  exultant  eye,  returning  from  the  last  glimpse 
of  the  lissom  figure  as  it  disappeared,  met  the  gaze 
of  Keller.  That  young  man  was  watching  him  with 


MAVERICKS  101 


an  odd  look  of  challenge  on  his  usually  impassive 
face. 

The  cattleman  felt  the  spur  of  a  new  antagonism 
stirring  his  blood.  There  was  something  almost 
like  a  sneer  on  his  lips  as  he  spoke : 

"Sorry  to  lose  your  company,  Mr.  Keller.     But 
if  you're  homesteading,  of  course,  we'll  have  to* 
let  you  go  back  to  the  hills  right  away.     Couldn't  /• 
think  of   keeping  you   from  that   spring  plowing 
that's  waiting  to  be  done." 

" You're  putting  up  a  different  line  of  talk  from 
what  you  did.  How  about  that  charge  of  rustling 
against  me,  Mr.  Weaver?  Don't  you  want  to  hold 
me  while  you  investigate  it?" 

"No,  I  reckon  not.  Your  lady  friend  gives  you 
a  clean  bill  of  health.  She  may  or  may  not  be 
lying.  I'm  not  so  sure  myself.  But  without  her 
the  case  against  you  falls." 

Keller  knew  himself  dismissed  cavalierly,  and, 
much  as  he  would  have  liked  to  stay,  he  could  find 
no  further  excuse  to  urge.  He  could  hardly  in 
vite  himself  to  be  either  the  guest  or  the  prisoner  of 
a  man  who  did  not  want  him. 

"Just  as  you  say,"  he  nodded,  and  turned  care* 
lessly  to  his  pony. 

Yet  he  was  quite  sure  it  would  not  be  as  Weaver 
said  if  he  could  help  it.  He  meant  to  take  a  hand 
in  the  game,  no  matter  what  the  other  might  decree. 
But  for  the  present  he  acquiesced  in  the  inevitable. 
Weaver  was  technically  within  his  rights  in  holding 


102  MAVERICKS 


her  until  he  had  communicated  with  the  sheriff.  A 
generous  foe  might  not  have  stood  out  for  his 
pound  of  flesh,  but  Buck  was  as  hard  as  nails.  As 
for  the  reputation  of  the  girl,  it  was  safe  at  the 
Twin  Star  ranch.  Buck's  sister,  a  maiden  lady  of 
uncertain  years,  was  on  hand  to  play  chaperone. 

Larrabie  swung  to  the  saddle.  His  horse's  hoofs 
were  presently  flinging  dirt  toward  the  Twin  Star 
as  he  loped  up  to  the  hills. 


CHAPTER   VIII 

MISS-GOING-ON-EIGHTEEN 

i 

Time  had  been  when  the  range  was  large  enough 
for  all,  when  every  man's  cattle  might  graze  at  will 
from  horizon  to  horizon.  But  with  the  push  of 
settlement  to  the  frontier  had  come  a  change.  The 
feeding  ground  became  overstocked.  One  outfit 
elbowed  another,  and  lines  began  to  be  drawn  be 
tween  the  runs  of  different  owners.  Water  holes 
were  seized  and  fenced,  with  or  without  due  process 
of  law. 

With  the  establishment  of  forest  reserves  a  new 
policy  dominated  the  government.  Sanderson  had 
been  one  of  the  first  to  avail  himself  of  it  by  leasing 
the  public  demesne  for  his  stock.  Later,  learning 
that  the  mountain  parks  were  to  be  thrown  open  as 
a  pasturage  for  sheep,  he  had  bought  three  thou 
sand  and  driven  them  up,  having  first  arranged 
terms  with  the  forestry  service. 

Buck  Weaver,  fighting  the  government  reserve 
policy  with  all  his  might,  resented  fiercely  the  at 
titude  of  Sanderson.  A  sharp,  bitter  quarrel  had 
resulted,  and  had  left  a  smoldering  bad  feeling  that 
flamed  at  times  into  open  warfare.  Upon  the  whole- 

103 


104  MAVERICKS 


some  Malpais  country  had  fallen  the  bitterness  of  a 
sheep  and  cattle  feud. 

The  riders  of  the  Twin  Star  outfit  had  thrice 
raided  the  Sanderson  flocks.  Lambing  sheep  had 
been  run  cruelly.  One  herd  had  been  clubbed  over  a 
precipice,  another  decimated  with  poison.  In  re 
turn,  the  herders  shot  and  hamstrung  Twin  Star 
cows.  A  herder  was  held  up  and  beaten  by  cow 
boys.  Next  week  a  vaquero  galloped  home  to  the 
Twin  Star  ranch  with  a  bullet  through  his  leg. 
This  was  the  situation  at  the  time  when  the  owner 
of  the  big  ranch  brought  Phyllis  a  prisoner  to  its 
hospitality. 

Nothing  could  have  been  more  pat  to  his  liking. 
He  was,  in  large  measure,  the  force  behind  the  law 
in  San  Miguel  county.  The  sheriff  whom  he  had 
elected  to  office  would  be  conveniently  deaf  to  any 
illegality  there  might  be  in  his  holding  the  girl, 
would  if  necessary  give  him  an  order  to  hold  her 
there  until  further  notice.  The  attempt  to  assassi 
nate  him  would  serve  as  excuse  enough  for  a  pro 
ceeding  even  more  highhanded  than  this.  Her 
relatives  could  scarce  appeal  to  the  law,  since  the 
law  would  then  step  in  and  send  her  to  the  peni 
tentiary.  He  could  use  her  position  as  a  hostage 
to  force  her  stiff-necked  father  to  come  to  terms. 

But  it  was  characteristic  of  the  man  that  his 
reason  for  keeping  her  was,  after  all,  less  the  ad 
vantage  he  might  gain  by  it  than  the  pleasure  he 
found  in  tormenting  her  and  her  family.  To  this 


MAVERICKS  105 


instinct  of  the  jungle  beast  was  added  the  interest 
she  had  inspired  in  him.  Untaught  of  life  she  was, 
no  doubt,  a  child  of  the  desert,  in  some  ways  primi 
tive  as  Eve ;  but  he  perceived  in  her  the  capacity  for 
deep  feeling,  for  passion,  for  that  kind  of  fierce, 
dauntless  endurance  it  is  given  some  women  to  pos 
sess. 

Miss  Weaver  took  charge  of  the  comfort  of  her 
guest.  Her  manner  showed  severe  disapproval  of 
this  girl  so  lost  to  the  feelings  of  her  sex  as  to  have 
attempted  murder.  That  she  was  young  and  pretty 
made  matters  worse.  Alice  Weaver  always  had 
worshipped  her  brother,  by  the  law  of  opposites 
perhaps.  She  was  as  drab  and  respectable  as  Bos 
ton.  All  her  tastes  ran  to  humdrum  monotony. 
But  turbulent,  lawless  Buck,  the  brother  whom  she 
had  brought  up  after  the  death  of  their  mother, 
held  her  heart  in  the  hollow  of  his  hard,  careless 
hand. 

"Have  you  had  everything  you  wish  ?"  she  would 
ask  Phyllis  in  a  frigid  voice. 

"I  want  to  be  taken  home." 

"You  should  have  thought  of  that  before  you  did 
the  dreadful  thing  you  did." 

"You  are  holding  me  here  a  prisoner,  then?" 

"An  involuntary  guest,  my  brother  puts  it.  Until 
the  sheriff  can  make  other  arrangements." 

"You  have  no  right  to  do  it  without  notifying 
my  father.  He  is  at  Noches  with  my  brother." 

"Mr.  Weaver  will  do  as  he  thinks  best  about 


106  MAVERICKS 


that."  The  spinster  shut  her  lips  tight  and  walked 
from  the  room. 

Supper  was  brought  to  Phyllis  by  the  Mexican 
woman.  In  spite  of  her  indignation  she  ate  and 
slept  well.  Nor  did  her  appetite  appear  impaired 
next  morning,  when  she  breakfasted  in  her  bed 
room.  Noon  found  her  promoted  to  the  family 
dining  room.  Weaver  carried  his  arm  in  a  sling, 
but  made  no  reference  to  the  fact.  He  attempted 
conversation,  but  Phyllis  withdrew  into  herself  and 
had  nothing  more  friendly  than  a  plain  "No"  or 
'Yes"  for  him.  His  sister  was  presently  called 
away  to  arrange  some  household  difficulty.  At  once 
Phyllis  attacked  the  big  man  lounging  in  his  chair 
at  his  ease. 

"I  want  to  go  home.  I've  got  to  be  at  the  school- 
house  to-morrow  morning,"  she  announced. 

"It  won't  hurt  you  any  to  miss  a  few  days' 
schooling,  my  dear.  You'll  learn  more  here  than 
you  will  there,  anyhow,"  he  assured  her  pleasantly. 
Buck  was  cracking  two  walnuts  in  the  palm  of  his 
hand  and  let  his  lazy  smile  drift  her  way  only  casu 
ally. 

She  stamped  her  foot.  "I  tell  you  I'm  the  teacher. 
It  is  necessary  I  should  be  there." 

"You  a  schoolmarm!"  he  repeated,  in  surprise. 
"How  old  are  you?" 

Her  dress  was  scarcely  below  her  shoe  tops.  She 
still  had  the  slimness  of  immature  girlhood,  the 


MAVERICKS  107 


adorable  shy  daring  of  some  uncaptured  wood 
nymph. 

"Does  that  matter  to  you,  sir?" 

"How  old?"  he  reiterated. 

"Going-on-eighteen,"  she  answered — not  because 
she  wanted  to,  but  because  somehow  she  must. 
There  was  something  compelling  about  this  man's 
will.  She  would  have  resisted  it  had  she  not  wanted 
to  gain  her  point  about  going  home. 

"So  you  teach  the  kids  their  A  B  Cs,  do  you? 
And  you  just  out  of  them  yourself!  How  many 
scholars  have  you?" 

"Fourteen." 

"And  they  all  love  teacher,  of  course.  Would 
you  take  me  for  a  scholar,  Miss  Going-On- 
Eighteen  ?" 

"No!"  she  flamed. 

"'You'd  find  me  right  teachable.  And  I  would 
promise  to  love  you,  too." 

Color  came  and  went  in  her  face  beneath  the 
brow.  How  dared  he  mock  her  so !  It  humiliated 
and  embarrassed  and  angered  her. 

"Are  you  going  to  let  me  go  back  to  my  school?" 
she  demanded. 

"I  reckon  your  school  will  have  to  get  along 
without  you  for  a  few  days.  Your  fourteen  schol 
ars  will  keep  right  on  loving  you,  I  expect.  'To 
memory  dear,  though  far  from  eye.'  Or,  if  you 
like,  I'll  send  my  boys  up  into  the  hills,  and  round 


108  MAVERICKS 


up  the  whole  fourteen  here  for  you.  Then  school 
can  keep  right  here  in  the  house.  How  about  that  ? 
Ain't  that  a  good  notion,  Miss  Going-On- 
Eighteen?" 

She  could  stand  his  ironic  mockery  no  longer. 
She  faced  him,  fearless  as  a  tiger  :  "You  villain  !" 

With  that,  turning  on  her  heel,  she  passed  swiftly 
into  her  little  bedroom,  and  slammed  the  door.  He 
heard  the  key  turn  in  the  lock. 

"She's  sure  got  some  devil  in  her,"  he  laughed 
appreciatively,  and  he  cracked  another  walnut. 

Already  he  had  struck  the  steel  of  her  quality. 
She  would  be  his  prisoner  because  she  must,  but  the 
"no  compromise"  flag  was  nailed  to  her  masthead. 

"I  wonder  why  you  are  so  fond  of  me  ?"  he  mused 
aloud  next  day  when  he  found  her  as  unresponsive 
to  his  advances  as  a  block  of  wood. 

He  was  lying  in  the  sand  at  her  feet,  his  splen 
did  body  relaxed  full  lexigth  at  supple  ease.  Lean 
ing  on  an  elbow,  he  had  been  watching  her  for 
some  time. 

Her  gaze  was  on  the  distant  line  of  hills  ;  on  her 
face  that  far-away  expression  which  told  him  that 
he  was  not  on  the  map  for  her.  Used  as  he  was 
to  impressing  himself  upon  the  imagination  of 
women,  this  stung  his  vanity  sharply.  He  liked 
better  the  times  when  her  passion  flamed  out  at  him. 

Now  he  lost  his  sardonic  mockery  in  a  flash  of 


"Do  you  hear  me?    I  asked  you  a  question." 


MAVERICKS  109 


She  brought  her  head  round  until  her  eyes  rested 
upon  him. 

"Will  you  ask  it  again,  please?  I  wasn't  listen 
ing." 

"I  want  to  know  what  makes  you  hate  me  so,"  he 
demanded  roughly. 

"Do  I  hate  you?" 

He  laughed  irritably.  "What  else  do  you  call  it  ? 
You  won't  hardly  eat  at  the  same  table  with  me. 
Last  night  you  wouldn't  come  down  to  supper. 
Same  way  this  morning.  If  I  sit  down  near  you, 
soon  you  find  an  excuse  to  leave.  When  I  speak, 
you  don't  answer." 

"You  are  my  jailer,  not  my  friend." 

"I  might  be  both." 

"No,  thank  you!" 

She  said  it  with  such  quick,  instinctive  certainty 
that  he  ground  his  teeth  in  resentment.  He  was  the 
kind  of  man  that  always  wanted  what  he  could  not 
get.  He  began  to  covet  this  girl  mightily,  even 
while  he  told  himself  that  he  was  a  fool  for  his 
pains.  What  was  she  but  an  untaught,  country 
schoolgirl?  It  would  be  a  strange  irony  of  fate 
if  Buck  Weaver  should  fall  in  love  with  a  sheep 
man's  daughter. 

"Many  people  would  go  far  to  get  my  friend 
ship,"  he  told  her. 

Quietly  she  looked  at  him.  "The  friends  of  my 
people  are  my  friends.  Their  enemies  are  mine." 

"Yet  you  said  you  didn't  hate  me." 


110  MAVERICKS 


"I  thought  I  did,  but  I  find  I  don't." 

"Not  worth  hating,  I  suppose  ?" 

She  neither  corrected  nor  rejected  his  explana 
tion. 

He  touched  his  wounded  arm  as  he  went  on: 
"If  you  don't  hate  me,  why  this  compliment  to  me? 
I  reckon  good,  genuine  hate  sent  that  bullet." 

The  girl  colored,  but  after  a  moment's  hesita 
tion  answered : 

"Once  I  shot  a  coyote  when  I  saw  it  making 
ready  to  pounce  on  one  of  our  lambs.  I  did  not 
hate  that  coyote." 

"Thank  you,"  he  told  her  ironically. 

Her  gaze  went  back  to  the  mountains.  She  had 
always  had  a  capacity  for  silence.  But  it  was  as  ex 
traordinary  to  her  as  to  him  how,  in  the  past  few 
days,  she  had  sloughed  the  shy  timidity  of  a  moun 
tain  girl  and  found  the  enduring  courage  of  woman 
hood.  Her  wits,  too,  had  taken  on  the  edge  of  ma 
turity.  He  found  that  her  tongue  could  strike 
swiftly  and  sharply.  She  was  learning  to  defend 
herself  in  all  the  ways  women  have  acquired  by 
inheritance. 

Weaver's  jaw  set  like  a  vise.  Getting  to  his  feet, 
he  looked  down  at  her  with  the  hard,  relentless 
eyes  that  had  made  his  name  a  terror. 

"Good  enough,  Miss  Phyllis  Sanderson.  You've 
chosen  your  way.  I'll  choose  mine.  You've  got  to 
learn  that  I'm  master  here;  and,  by  God,  I'll  teach 
it  to  you.  Before  I  get  through  with  you,  young 


MAVERICKS  111 


woman,  you'll  come  running  when  I  snap  my  fin 
gers.  From  to-day  things  will  be  different.  Youll 
eat  your  meals  with  us  and  not  in  your  room. 
You'll  speak  when  you're  spoken  to.  Set  yourself 
up  against  me,  and  I'll  bring  you  to  your  knees  fast 
enough.  There's  no  law  on  the  Twin  Star  Ranch 
but  Buck  Weaver's  will." 

He  strode  away,  almost  herculean  in  figure,  and 
every  inch  of  him  forceful.  She  had  never  seen 
such  a  man,  one  so  virile  and,  at  the  same  time,  so 
wilful  and  so  masterful.  Before  he  was  out  of  her 
sight,  she  got  an  instance  of  his  recklessness. 

A  Mexican  vaquero  was  driving  some  horses 
into  a  corral.  His  master  strode  up  to  him,  and 
dragged  him  from  the  saddle. 

"Didn't  I  tell  you  to  take  the  colts  down  to  the 
long  pasture?" 

"Si,  senor"  answered  the  trembHng  native. 

Weaver's  great  fist  rose  and  fell  once.  The  Mex 
ican  sank  limply  down.  Without  another  glance  at 
him,  the  cattleman  flung  him  aside,  and  strode  to 
the  house. 

As  the  owner  of  the  Twin  Star  had  said,  so  it 
was.  Thereafter  Phyllis  sat  at  the  table  with  him 
and  his  sister,  while  Josephine,  the  Mexican  woman, 
waited  upon  them.  The  girl  came  and  went  at  his 
bidding.  But  she  held  herself  with  such  a  quiet 
aloofness  that  his  victory  was  a  barren  one. 

"Do  you  want  to  go  home?"  he  taunted  her  one 
morning,  while  at  breakfesi. 


112  MAVERICKS 


"Is  it  likely  I  would  want  to  stay  here?"  she  re 
torted. 

"Why  not?  What  have  you  to  complain  of? 
Aren't  you  treated  well  ?" 

"Yes." 

"What,  then?     Are  you  afraid?" 

"No !"  she  answered,  with  a  flash  of  her  fine  eyes. 

"That's  good,  because  you've  got  to  stay  here — 
or  go  to  the  pen.  You  may  take  your  choice." 

"You're  very  generous.  I  suppose  you  don't 
expect  to  keep  me  here  always,"  she  said  scornfully. 

"Until  my  arm  gets  well.  Since  you  wounded  i* 
you  ought  to  nurse  it." 

"Which  I  am  not  doing,  even  while  I  am  here." 

"Anyhow  it  soothes  the  temper  of  the  invalid  to 
have  you  around."  He  grinned  satirically. 

"So  I  judge,  from  the  effects." 

"Meaning  that  I'm  always  in  a  rage  when  I  leave 
you?" 

"I  notice  your  men  are  marked  up  a  good  deal 
these  days." 

"I'll  tell  them  to  thank  you  for  it,"  he  flung  back. 

Two  days  later,  he  scored  on  her  hard  for  the 
first  time.  She  came  down  to  breakfast  just  as  two 
of  the  Twin  Star  riders  brought  a  boy  into  the 
hall. 

She  flew  instantly  into  his  arms,  thereby  embar 
rassing  him  vastly. 

"Phil!     How  did  you  come  here?" 

Her  brother  nodded  toward  Curly  and  Pesky. 


MAVERICKS  113 


'"They  found  me  outside  and  got  the  drop  on  me." 

"You  were  here  looking  for  me  ?" 

"Yes.  Just  got  back  from  Noches.  Dad  is  still 
there.  He  don't  know." 

"But — what  are  they  going  to  do  with  you?" 

"What  would  you  suggest,  Miss  Phyllis?"  a  voice  - 
behind  her  gibed. 

The  speaker  was  Weaver.  He  filled  the  doorway 
of  the  dining  room  triumphantly.  She  had  had  no 
fears  for  herself;  he  would  see  if  she  had  none  for 
her  brother. 

The  boy  whirled  on  the  ranchman  like  a  tiger 
whelp.  "I  don't  care  what  you  do.  Go  ahead  and 
do  your  worst." 

Weaver  looked  him  over  negligently,  much  as  he 
might  watch  a  struggling  calf.  To  him  the  boy 
was  not  an  enemy — merely  a  tool  which  he  could  use 
for  his  own  ends.  Phyllis,  watching  anxiously  the 
hard,  expressionless  face,  felt  that  it  was  cruel  as 
fate.  She  knew  that  somehow  she  would  be  made 
to  suiter  through  her  love  for  her  brother. 

"You  daren't  touch  him.  He's  done  nothing," 
she  cried. 

"He  shot  at  one  of  my  riders.  I  can't  have  dan 
gerous  characters  around.  I'm  a  peaceable  man, 
me/'  grinned  Buck. 

"You  didn't,  Phil,"  his  sister  reproached. 

"Sure  I  did.  He  tried  to  take  my  gun  from  me," 
the  boy  explained  hotly. 

"Take  him  out  to  the  bunk  house,  boys.     I'll  at- 


114  MAVERICKS 


tend  to  him  later/'  nodded  Buck,  turning  away  in 
differently. 

Stung  to  fury  by  the  cavalier  manner  of  his  en-v 
emy,  the  boy  leaped  at  him  like  a  wild  cat.  Weaver 
whirled  round  again,  caught  him  by  the  shoulder 
with  his  great  hand,  and  shook  him  as  if  he  had 
been  a  puppy.  When  he  dropped  him,  he  nodded 
again  to  his  men,  who  dragged  out  the  struggling 
boy. 

Phyllis  stood  straight  as  an  arrow,  but  white  to 
the  lips.  "What  are  you  going  to  do  to  him?" 
she  asked. 

"How  would  a  good  chapping  do,  to  start  with? 
That  is  always  good  for  an  unlicked  cub." 

"Don't !"  she  implored. 

"But,  my  dear,  why  not — since  it's  for  his  good  ?" 

Passion  unleashed  leaped  from  her.  "You  cow 
ard!" 

He  shrugged  his  shoulders.  "I'm  right  desolated 
to  have  your  bad  opinion.  But  you  say  it  almost  as 
if  you  did  hate  me.  That's  a  compliment,  you  know. 
You  didn't  hate  the  coyote,  you  mentioned." 

Her  eyes  flamed.  "Hate  you!  If  wishes  could 
kill,  you  would  be  a  thousand  times  dead!" 

"You  disappoint  me,  my  dear.  I  expected  more 
than  wishes  from  you.  There's  a  loaded  revolver  in 
that  table  drawer.  It's  yours,  any  time  ycyu  want 
it,"  he  derided. 

"Don't  tempt  me !"  she  cried  wildly.  "If  you  lay 
a  hand  on  Phil,  Til  use  it— I  surely  will." 


MAVERICKS 


His  eyes  shone  with  delight.  "I  wonder.  By 
Jove,  I've  a  mind  to  flog  the  colt  and  see.  I'll  do 
it." 

The  passion  sank  in  her  as  suddenly  as  it  had 
risen.  "No — you  mustn't!  You  don't  know  hin?j 
— or  us.  We  are  from  the  South." 

"That  settles  it.    I  will,"  he  exulted.    "You  have '" 
called  me  a  coward.    Would  a  coward  do  this,  and 
defy  your  whole  crew  to  its  revenge?" 

"Would  a  brave  man  break  the  pride  of  a  high- 
spirited  boy  for  such  a  mean  motive?"  she  coun 
tered. 

"His  pride  will  have  to  look  out  for  itself.  He 
took  his  chance  of  it  when  he  tried  to  assault  me. 
What  he'll  get  is  only  what's  coming  to  him." 

"Please  don't!  I'll— I'll  be  different  to  you. 
Take  it  out  on  me,"  she  begged. 

He  laughed  harshly.  "Do  you  suppose  I'm  such 
a  fool  as  not  to  know  that  the  way  to  take  it  out  on 
you  is  to  take  it  out  of  him?" 

She  had  come  nearer,  a  step  at  a  time.  Now  she 
threw  her  hand  out  in  a  gesture  of  abandon. 

"Be  generous !  Don't  punish  me  that  way.  Some* 
thing  dreadful  will  come  of  it." 

She  broke  down  and  struggled  with  her  tears.  He ' 
watched  her  for  a  moment  without  speaking. 

"Good  enough.  I'll  be  generous  and  let  you  pay 
his  debt  for  him,  if  you  want  to  do  it." 

Her  eyes  were  glad  with  the  swift  joy  that  leaped 
into  them. 


116  MAVERICKS 


"That  is  good  of  you!  And  how  shall  I  pay?" 
she  cried. 

"With  a  kiss." 

She  drew  back  as  if  he  had  struck  her,  all  the 
sparkling  eagerness  driven  from  her  face. 

"Oh!"  she  moaned. 

"Just  one  kiss — I  don't  ask  anything  more.  Give 
me  that,  and  I'll  turn  him  loose.  Honor  bright." 

He  held  her  startled  gaze  as  a  snake  holds  that 
of  a  fascinated  bird. 

"Choose,"  he  told  her,  in  his  masterful  way. 

Her  imagination  conceived  a  vision  of  her  young 
brother  being  tortured  by  this  man.  She  had  not 
the  least  doubt  that  he  would  do  what  he  said,  and 
probably  would  think  the  boy  got  only  what  he  de 
served. 

"Take  it,"  she  told  him,  and  waited. 

Perhaps  he  might  have  spared  her  had  it  not  been 
for  the  look  of  deep  contempt  that  bit  into  his  van 
ity. 

He  kissed  her  full  on  the  lips. 

Instantly  she  woke  to  life,  struck  him  on  the 
cheek  with  her  little,  brown  fist,  and,  with  a  sob  of 
woe,  turned  and  ran  from  the  room. 

Weaver  cursed  himself  in  a  fury  of  anger.  He 
felt  himself  to  be  a  hound  because  of  the  thing  he 
had  done,  and  he  hated  the  instinct  in  him  that 
drove  him  to  master  her.  He  had  insulted  and 
trampled  on  her.  Yet  he  knew  in  his  heart  that 
he  would  have  killed  another  man  for  doing  it. 


CHAPTER   IX 

^    PUNISHMENT 

The  cattleman  strode  into  the  bunk  house,  where, 
young  Sanderson  sat  sulkily  on  a  bed  under  the 
persuasion  of  Curly's  rifle. 

"Have  this  boy's  horse  saddled  and  brought 
around,  Curly." 

"You're  the  doctor,"  answered  the  cowboy 
promptly,  and  forthwith  vanished  outdoors  to  obey 
instructions. 

Phil  looked  sullenly  at  his  captor,  and  waited  for 
him  to  begin.  One  of  his  hands  was  under  the 
pillow  of  the  cot  upon  which  he  sat.  His  fingers 
circled  the  butt  of  a  revolver  he  had  found  there, 
where  one  of  the  riders  had  chanced  to  leave  it 
that  morning. 

"I'm  going  to  turn  you  loose  to  go  home  to  the 
hills,"  Weaver  told  him. 

"And  my  sister?" 

"She  stays  here." 

'Then  so  do  I." 

"That's  up  to  you.  There's  no  law  against  camp 
ing  on  the  plains — that  is,  out  of  range  of  the 
Twin  Star." 

117 


118  MAVERICKS 


"What  are  you  going  to  do  with  her?"  the  boy 
demanded  ominously. 

"If  you  ask  no  questions,  I'll  tell  you  no  lies." 

"You'll  let  her  go  home  with  me — that's  what 
you'll  do/'  cried  Phil. 

"I  reckon  not.  You've  got  a  license  to  feel  lucky 
you're  going  yourself." 

"By  God,  I  say  you  shall!" 

The  cattleman's  eyes  took  on  their  stony,  snake- 
like  look.  His  hand  did  not  move  by  so  much  as 
an  inch  toward  the  scabbarded  revolver  at  his  side. 

"All  right.  Come  a-shooting.  I  see  you've  got 
a  gun  under  that  pillow." 

The  weapon  leaped  into  sight.  "You're  right  I 
have!  I'll  drill  you  full  of  holes  as  soon  as  wink." 

Weaver  laughed  contemptuously.  "Begin  pump 
ing,  son." 

"I'm  going  to  take  my  sister  home  with  me. 
You'll  give  orders  to  your  men  to  that  effect." 

"Guess  again." 

"I  tell  you  I'll  shoot  your  hide  full  of  holes  if 
you  don't!"  cried  the  excited  boy. 

"Oh,  no,  you  won't." 

Buck  Weaver  was  flirting  with  death,  and  he 
knew  it.  The  very  breath  of  it  fanned  his  cheek. 
During  that  moment  he  lived  gloriously;  for  he 
was  a  man  who  revelled  in  his  sensations.  He 
laughed  into  the  very  muzzle  of  the  six-shooter  that 
covered  him. 

"Quit  your  play  acting,  boy,"  he  jeered. 


MAVERICKS  119 


"I  give  you  one  more  chance  before  I  blow  out 
your  brains." 

The  cattleman  put  his  unwounded  hand  into  his 
trousers  pocket  and  lounged  forward,  thrusting  his 
smiling  face  against  the  cold  rim  of  the  blue  bar 
rel. 

"I  reckon  you'll  scatter  proper  what  few  brains 
I've  got." 

With  a  curse,  the  boy  flung  the  weapon  down  on 
the  bed.  He  could  not  possibly  kill  a  man  so  willing 
as  this.  To  draw  guns  with  him,  and  chance  the 
issue,  would  have  suited  young  Sanderson  exactly. 
But  this  way  would  be  no  less  than  murder 

"You  devil !"  he  cried,  with  a  boyish  sob. 

Weaver  picked  up  the  revolver,  and  examined 
it.  "Mighty  careless  of  Ned  to  leave  it  lying 
around  this  way,"  he  commented  absently,  as  if  un 
aware  of  the  other's  rage.  "You  never  can  tell 
when  a  gun  is  going  to  get  into  the  wrong  hands." 

"What  are  you  letting  me  go  for?  You've  got 
a  reason.  What  is  it?"  Phil  demanded. 

Weaver  looked  at  him  through  narrowed,  dare 
devil  eyes.  "The  ransom  price  has  been  paid,"  he 
explained. 

"Paid!    Who  paid  it?" 

"Miss  Phyllis  Sanderson." 

"Phyllis?"  repeated  the  boy  incredulously.  "But 
she  had  no  money." 

"Did  I  say  she  paid  it  in  money?" 

"What  do  you  mean?" 


120  MAVERICKS 


"She  asked  me  to  set  you  free.  I  named  my 
price,  and  she  agreed." 

"What  was  your  price  ?"  the  boy  asked  hoarsely. 

"A  kiss." 

At  that,  Phil  struck  him  full  in  the  sardonic, 
mocking  face.  Blood  crimsoned  the  lips  that  had 
been  crushed  against  the  strong,  white  teeth. 

"Again,"  said  Weaver. 

The  brown  fist  went  back  and  shot  forward  like 
a  piston  rod.  This  time  it  left  an  ugly  gash  over 
the  cheek  bone. 

"Much  obliged.    Once  more." 

The  young  man  balanced  himself  carefully,  and 
struck  hard  and  true  between  the  eyes. 

A  third,  a  fourth,  and  a  fifth  time  Phil  lashed 
out  at  the  disfigured,  grinning  face. 

"Let's  make  it  an  even  half  dozen,"  the  cattle 
man  suggested. 

But  Phil  had  had  enough  of  it.  This  was  too 
much  like  butchery.  His  passion  had  spent  itself. 
He  struck,  but  with  no  force  behind  the  blow. 

Weaver  went  to  the  washstand,  dashed  some 
water  on  his  face,  and  pressed  a  towel  against  the 
raw  wounds.  He  flung  the  red-soaked  towel  aside 
just  as  Curly  cantered  up  on  Sanderson's  horse. 
The  cow-puncher  stared  at  his  boss  in  amazement, 
opened  his  lips  to  speak,  and  thought  better  of  it. 
He  looked  at  Phil,  whose  knuckles  were  badly 
barked  and  bleeding. 

Curly  had  seen  his  master  marked  up  before,  but 


•HE  DBEW  BACK   A*  IF  HE   HAD   3TROCK   HER.   ALL  THE  SPARKLING   EAQBRXB88 
DBI7&.N'  FBOli  HBB  FACE. 

rage  lib 


MAVERICKS  121 


on  such  occasions  the  other  man  was  a  sight  for 
the  gods  to  wonder  at.  Now  Weaver  was  the  spec 
tacle,  and  the  other  was  untouched.  In  view  of 
Buck's  reputation  as  a  rough-and-tumble  fighter, 
this  seemed  no  less  than  a  miracle.  Curly  departed 
with  the  -wonder  unexplained,  for  Weaver  dis 
missed  him  with  a  nod. 

"Like  to  see  your  sister  before  you  go?"  the  cat 
tleman  asked  curtly  of  Phil,  over  his  shoulder. 

"Yes." 

Buck  led  the  way  across  the  plaza  to  the  house, 
and  clapped  his  hands  in  the  hall.  Josephine  an 
swered  the  summons. 

"Tell  Miss  Sanderson  that  her  brother  would 
like  to  see  her." 

The  woman  vanished  up  the  stairway,  and  the 
two  men  waited  in  silence.  Presently  Phyllis  stood 
in  the  door.  Her  eyes  ignored  Weaver,  and  were 
only  for  her  brother.  Her  first  glance  told  her  that 
all  was  well  so  far  as  he  was  concerned,  even 
though  it  also  let  her  know  that  the  boy  was 
anxious. 

"Phil!"  she  breathed. 

"So  you  bought  my  freedom  for  me,  did  you?" 
the  boy  said,  his  voice  trembling. 

Phyllis  answered  in  the  clearest  of  low  voices. 
"Yes.  Did  he  tell  you?" 

"You  oughtn't  to  have  done  it.  I'll  have  no 
such  bargains  made.  Understand  that!"  cried  her 
brother,  emotion  in  his  high  tones. 


MAVERICKS 


"I  couldn't  help  it,  Phil.  I  did  it  for  the  best 
You  don't  know." 

"I  know  that  you're  to  keep  out  ot  this.  I'll 
fight  my  own  battles.  In  our  family  the  girls  don't 
sell  kisses.  Remember  that." 

Phyl  hung  her  head.  She  felt  herself  disgraced, 
but  she  knew  that  she  would  do  it  again  in  like  cir 
cumstances. 

Weaver  broke  in  roughly:  "You  young  fool! 
She's  worth  a  dozen  of  you,  who  haven't  sense 
enough  to  sabe  her  kind." 

The  girl  glanced  at  him  involuntarily.  At  sight 
of  his  swollen  and  beaten  face,  she  started.  Her 
gaze  clung  to  him,  eyes  wild  and  fluttering  with 
apprehension. 

"I've  been  taking  a  massage  treatment,"  he  ex 
plained. 

Phyllis  looked  at  her  brother,  then  back  at  the 
ranchman.  The  thing  was  beyond  comprehension. 
Ten  minutes  ago,  this  ferocious  Hercules  had  left 
her,  sound  and  unscratched.  Now  he  returned  with 
a  face  beaten  and  almost  beyond  recognition  from 
bloodstains. 

"What — what  is  it?"  The  appeal  was  to  her 
brother. 

"He  let  me  beat  him,"  Phil  explained. 

"Let  you  beat  him!    Why?" 

"I  don't  know." 

What  the  boy  said  was  true,  yet  it  was  something 
less  than  the  truth.  He  was  dimly  aware  that  this 


MAVERICKS  123 


man  knew  himself  to  have  violated  the  code,  and 
that  he  had  submitted  to  punishment  because  of 
the  violation. 

"Tell  me,"  Phyllis  commanded. 

Phil  told  her  in  three  sentences.  She  looked  at 
»Weaver  with  eyes  that  saw  him  in  a  new  light.  He 
still  sneered,  but  behind  the  mask  she  got  for  the 
first  time  a  glimpse  of  another  man.  Only  dimly 
she  divined  him;  but  what  she  visioned  was  half 
devil  and  half  hero,  capable  of  things  great  as  well 
as  of  deeds  despicable. 

"I'm  not  going  to  leave  you  here  in  this  house/' 
young  Sanderson  told  her.  "I'll  not  go.  If  you 
stay,  I  stay." 

She  shook  her  head.  "No,  Phil — you  must  go. 
I'm  all  right  here — as  safe  as  I  would  be  at  home. 
You  know,  he  has  a  right  to  send  me  to  prison  if  he 
wants  to.  I  suppose  he  is  holding  me  as  a  hostage 
against  our  friends  in  the  hills." 

The  boy  accepted  her  decree  under  protest.  He 
did  not  know  what  else  to  do.  Decision  comes  only 
with  age,  and  he  could  hit  on  no  policy  that  would 
answer.  Reluctantly  he  gave  way. 

"If  you  so  much  as  touch  her,  you'll  die  for  it/' 
e  gulped  at  Weaver,  in  a  sudden  boyish  passion. 
We'll  shoot  you  down  like  a  dog." 

"Or  a  coyote,"  suggested  Buck,  with  a  swift 
glance  at  Phyllis.  "It  seems  to  be  a  family  habit. 
I'm  much  obliged  to  you." 

Phyl  was  in  her  brother's  arms,  frankly  in  tears. 


MAVERICKS 


It  was  all  very  well  to  tell  him  to  go ;  it  was  quite 
another  thing  to  let  him  go  without  a  good  cry 
at  losing  him. 

"Just  say  the  word,  and  I'll  see  it  out  with  you, 
sis,"  he  told  her. 

"No,  no !  I  want  you  to  go.  I  wouldn't  have  you; 
stay.  Tell  the  boys  it's  all  right,  and  don't  let 
them  do  anything  rash/' 

Sanderson  clenched  his  teeth,  and  looked  at 
Weaver.  "Oh,  they'll  do  nothing  rash.  Now  they 
know  you're  here,  they  won't  do  a  thing  but  sit 
down  and  be  happy,  I  expect." 

The  twins  whispered  together  for  a  minute,  then 
the  boy  kissed  her,  put  her  from  him  suddenly,  and 
strode  away.  From  the  door  he  called  back  two 
words  at  the  cattleman. 

"Don't  forget." 

With  that,  he  was  gone.  Yet  a  moment,  and 
they  heard  the  clatter  of  his  horse's  hoofs. 

"Why  did  you  tell  him?"  Phyllis  asked.  "It  will 
only  anger  them.  Now  they  will  seek  vengeance 
on  you." 

The  man  shrugged  his  shoulders.  "Search  me. 
Perhaps  I  wanted  to  prove  to  myself  that  a  man 
may  be  a  mean  bully,  and  not  all  coyote.  Perhaps 
I  wanted  to  get  under  his  hide.  Who  knows?" 

She  knew,  in  part.  He  had  treated  her  abom 
inably,  and  wanted  blindly  to  pay  for  it  in  the  first 
way  that  came  to  his  mind.  Half  savage  as  he 
sometimes  was,  that  way  had  been  to  stand  up  to 


MAVERICKS  125 


personal  punishment,  to  invite  retaliation  from  his 
enemies. 

"You  must  have  your  face  looked  to.  Shall  I 
call  Josephine?" 

"No/'  he  answered  harshly. 

"I  think  I  will.    We  can  help  it,  I'm  sure." 

That  "we"  saved  the  day.  He  let  her  call  the 
Mexican  woman,  and  order  warm  water,  towels, 
dressings,  and  adhesive  plaster.  It  seemed  to  him 
more  than  a  fancy  that  there  was  healing  in  the 
cool,  soft  fingers  which  washed  his  face  and  ad 
justed  the  bandages.  His  eyes,  usually  so  hard, 
held  now  the  dumb  hunger  one  sees  in  those  of  a 
faithful  dog.  They  searched  hers  for  something 
which  he  knew  he  would  never  find  in  them. 


CHAPTER   X 
INTO  THE  ENEMY'S  COUNTRY 

A  man  lay  on  the  top  of  Flat  Rock,  stretched  at 
supple  ease.  By  his  side  was  a  carbine ;  in  his  hand 
a  pair  of  field  glasses.  These  last  had  been  trained 
upon  Twin  Star  Ranch  for  some  time,  but  were 
now  focused  upon  a  pair  of  approaching  riders. 
At  the  edge  of  the  young  willow  grove  the  two 
dismounted  and  came  forward  leisurely. 

"Looks  like  the  mountains  are  coming  to  Ma 
homet  this  trip,"  the  watcher  told  himself. 

One  figure  was  that  of  a  girl — a  brown,  light- 
stepping  nymph,  upon  whom  the  checkered  sun 
light  filtered  through  the  leaves.  The  other  was  a 
finely  built  man,  strong  as  an  ox,  but  with  the  sap 
of  youth  still  in  his  blood  and  the  spring  of  it  in  his 
step,  in  spite  of  his  nearly  twoscore  years.  He 
stopped  at  the  foot  of  Flat  Rock,  and  turned  to  his, 
companion. 

"I've  been  wondering  why  you  went  riding  with 
me  yesterday  and  again  to-day,  Miss  Phyllis.  I 
reckon  I've  hit  on  the  reason." 

"I  like  to  ride." 

126 


MAVERICKS  127 


"Yes,  but  I  expect  you  don't  like  to  ride  with  me 
so  awful  much." 

"Yet  you  see  I  do,"  answered  the  girl  with  her 
swift,  shy  smile. 

"And  the  reason  is  that  you  know  I  would  be 
riding,  anyway.  You  don't  want  any  of  your  peo 
ple  from  the  hills  to  use  me  as  a  mark.  With  you 
along,  they  couldn'fi  Bo  it." 

"My  people  don't  shoot  from  ambush,"  she  told 
him  hotly.  It  was  easy  to  send  her  gallant  spirit 
out  in  quick  defense  of  her  kindred. 

He  looked  at  his  arm,  still  resting  in  a  sling,  and 
smiled  significantly. 

She  colored.  "That  was  an  impulse,"  she  told 
him. 

"And  you're  guarding  me  from  any  more  family 
impulses  like  it."  He  grinned.  "Not  that  it  flat 
ters  me  so  much,  either.  I've  got  a  notion  tucked 
in  the  back  of  my  head  that  you're  watching  me 
like  a  hen  does  her  one  chick,  for  their  sake  and  not 
for  mine.  Right  guess,  I'll  bet  a  dollar.  How 
about  it,  Miss  Sanderson?" 

"Yes,"  she  admitted.  "At  least,  most  for 
£hem." 

"You'd  like  to  call  the  chase  off  for  the  sake  of 
the  hunters,  and  not  for  the  sake  of  the  coyote." 

"I  wish  you  wouldn't  throw  that  word  up  to  me. 
I  oughtn't  to  have  said  that.  Please!" 

"All  right — I  won't.  It  isn't  your  saying  it,  but 
thinking  it,  that  hurts." 


128  MAVERICKS 


"I  don't  think  it." 

"You  think  I'm  entirely  to  blame  in  this  trouble 
with  your  people.  Don't  dodge.  You  know  you 
think  I'm  a  bully." 

"I  think  you're  very  arbitrary,"  she  replied,  flush 
ing. 

"Same  thing,  I  reckon.  Maybe  I  am.  Did  you 
ever  hear  my  side  of  the  story?" 

"No.    I'll  listen,  if  you  will  tell  me." 

Weaver  shook  his  head.  "No — I  guess  that 
wouldn't  be  playing  fair.  You're  on  the  other  side 
of  the  fence.  That's  where  you  belong.  Come  to 
that,  I'm  no  white-winged  angel,  anyhow.  All 
that's  said  of  me — most  of  it,  at  least — I  sure 
enough  deserve." 

"I  wonder,"  she  mused,  smiling  at  him. 

Scarcely  a  week  before,  she  had  been  so  imma 
ture  that  even  callow  Tom  Dixon  had  seemed 
experienced  beside  her.  Now  she  was  a  young 
woman  in  bloom,  instinctively  sure  of  herself,  even 
without  experience  to  guide  her.  Though  he  had 
never  said  so,  she  knew  quite  well  that  this  berserk 
of  the  plains  had  begun  to  love  her  with  all  the 
strength  of  his  untamed  heart.  She  would  have 
been  less  than  human  had  it  not  pleased  her,  even 
though,  at  the  same  time,  it  terrified  her. 

Buck  swept  his  hand  around  the  horizon.  "Ask 
Anybody.  They'll  all  give  me  the  same  certificate 
Df  character.  And  I  reckon  they  ain't  so  far  out, 
cither,"  he  added  grimly. 


MAVERICKS  129 


"Perhaps  they  are  all  right,  and  yet  all  wrong, 
too." 

He  looked  at  her  in  surprise.  "What  do  you 
mean?" 

"Maybe  they  don't  see  the  other  side  of  you  " , 
said  Phyllis  gently. 

"How  do  you  know  there's  another  side?" 

"I  don't  know  how,  but  I  do." 

"I  reckon  it  must  be  a  right  puny  one." 

"It  has  a  good  deal  to  fight  against,  hasn't  it?" 

"You're  right  it  has.  There's  a  devil  in  me  that 
gets  up  on  its  hind  legs  and  strangles  what  little 
good  it  finds.  But  it  certainly  beats  me  how  you 
know  so  much  that  goes  on  inside  a  sweep  like  me." 

"You  forget.  I'm  not  very  good  myself.  You 
know  my  temper  runs  away  with  me,  too." 

"You  blessed  lamb!"  she  heard  him  say  under 
his  breath ;  and  the  way  he  said  it  made  me  excla 
mation  half  a  groan. 

For  her  naive  confession  emphasized  the  gulf 
between  them.  Yet  it  pleased  him  mightily  that  she 
linked  herself  with  him  as  a  fellow  wrongdoer. 

"I  suppose  you've  been  wondering  why  your  peo 
ple  have  made  no  attempt  to  rescue  you,"  he  said 
presently;  for  he  saw  her  eyes  were  turned  toward 
the  hills  beyond  which  lay  her  home. 

"I'm  glad  they  haven't,  because  it  must  have 
made  trouble;  but  I  am  surprised,"  she  confessed. 

"They  have  tried  it— twice,"  he  told  her.  "First 
time  was  Saturday  morning,  just  before  daylight. 


130  MAVERICKS 


We  trapped  them  as  they  were  coming  through  the 
Box  Canon.  I  knew  they  would  come  down  that 
way,  because  it  was  the  nearest ;  so  I  was  ready  for 
them." 

"And  what  happened?"  Her  dilated  eyes  were 
like  those  of  a  stricken  doe. 

"Nothing  that  time.  I  let  them  see  I  had  them 
,  caught.  They  couldn't  go  forward  or  back.  They 
laid  down  their  arms,  and  took  the  back  trail. 
There  was  no  other  way  to  escape  being  mas 
sacred." 

"And  the  second  time?" 

Buck  hesitated.  "There  was  shooting  that  time. 
It  was  last  night.  My  riders  outnumbered  them 
and  had  cover.  We  drove  them  back." 

"Anybody  hurt?"  cried  Phyllis. 

"One  of  them  fell.  But  he  got  up  and  ran  limp 
ing  to  his  horse.  I  figured  he  wasn't  hurt  badly." 

"Was  he— could  you  tell "  She  leaned 

against  the  rock  wall  for  support. 

"No — I  didn't  know  him.  He  was  a  young  fel 
low.  But  you  may  be  sure  he  wasn't  hit  mortally. 
9  I  know,  because  I  shot  him  myself." 

"You!"  She  drew  back  in  a  sudden  sick  horror 
of  him. 

"Why  not?"  he  answered  doggedly.  "They  were 
shooting  at  me — aiming  to  kill,  too.  I  shot  low  on 
purpose,  when  I  might  have  killed  him." 

"Oh,  I  must  go  home — I  must  go  home!"  she 
moaned. 


MAVERICKS  131 


"I've  got  the  sheriff's  orders  to  hold  you  pend 
ing  an  investigation.  What  harm  does  it  do  you  to 
stay  here  a  while  ?"  he  asked  doggedly. 

"Don't  you  see?  When  my  father  hears  of  it  he 
will  be  furious.  I  made  Phil  promise  not  to  tell 
him.  But  he'll  hear  when  he  comes  back.  And 
then — there  will  be  trouble.  He'll  drag  me  from 
you,  or  he'll  die  trying.  He's  that  kind  of  man." 

A  pebble  rolled  dov  n  the  face  of  the  wall  against 
which  she  leaned.  Weaver  looked  up  quickly — to 
find  himself  covered  by  a  carbine. 

"Hands  up,  seh!     No — don't  reach  for  a  gun." 

"So  it's  you,  Mr.  Keller!  Homesteading  up 
there,  I  presume?" 

"In  a  way  of  speaking.  You  remember  I  asked 
you  a  question." 

"And  I  told  you  to  go  to  Halifax." 

"Well,  I  came  back  to  answer  the  question  my 
self.  You're  going  to  turn  the  young  lady  loose." 

"If  you  say  so."  Weaver's  voice  carried  an  in 
flection  of  sarcasm. 

"That's  what  I  say.  Miss  Sanderson,  will  you 
kindly  unbuckle  that  belt  and  round  up  the  weapons 
of  war?  Good  enough!  I'll  drift  down  that  way 
now  myself." 

Keller  lowered  himself  from  Flat  Rock,  keeping 
his  prisoner  covered  as  carefully  as  he  could  the 
while.  But,  though  Keller  came  down  the  steep 
bluff  with  infinite  pains,  the  rough  going  offered  a 
chance  of  escape  to  one  so  reckless  as  Weaver,  of 


MAVERICKS 


which  he  made  not  the  least  attempt  to  avail  him 
self.  Instead,  he  smiled  cynically  and  waited  with 
his  hand  in  the  air,  as  bidden.  Keller,  coming  for 
ward  with  both  eyes  on  his  prisoner,  slipped  on  a 
loose  boulder  that  rolled  beneath  his  foot,  stum* 
bled,  and  fell,  almost  at  the  feet  of  the  cattleman. 
He  got  up  as  swiftly  as  a  cat.  .Weaver  and  his 
derisive  grin  were  in  exactly  the  same  position. 

Keller  lowered  his  carbine  instantly.  This  plainly 
was  no  case  for  the  coercion  of  arms. 

"We'll  cut  out  the  gun  play,"  he  said.  "Better 
rest  the  hand  thafs  reaching  for  the  sky.  I  expect 
hostilities  are  over." 

"You  certainly  had  me  scared  stiff,"  Weaver 
mocked. 

From  the  first  roll  of  the  pebble  that  had  an 
nounced  the  presence  of  a  third  party,  Phyl  had  ex 
perienced  surprise  after  surprise.  She  had  expected 
to  see  one  of  the  Seven  Mile  boys  or  her  brother 
instead  of  Keller — had  looked  with  a  quaking  heart 
for  the  cattleman  to  fling  back  the  swift  challenge 
of  a  bullet.  His  tame  surrender  had  amazed  her, 
especially  when  Keller's  fall  had  given  him  a  chance 
(to  seize  the  carbine.  His  drawling,  sarcastic  badi 
nage  pointed  to  the  same  conclusion.  Evidently 
he  had  no  desire  to  resist.  Behind  this  must  be 
some  purpose  which  she  could  not  fathom. 

"Elected  yourself  chaperon  of  the  young  lady, 
have  you,  Mr.  Keller?"  Buck  asked  pleasantly. 

The  young  man  smiled  at  the  girl  before  he  an- 


MAVERICKS  133 


swered.  "You've  been  losing-  too  much  time  on 
the  job,  Mr.  Weaver.  Subject  to  her  approval,  I 
got  a  notion  I'd  take  her  back  home." 

"Best  place  for  her,"  assented  Weaver  promptly. 
"I've  been  thinking*  for  a  day  or  two  that  she  ought 
to  get  back  to  those  school  kids  of  hers.  But  I'm 
going  to  take  her  there  myself." 

"Yourself!"  Phyllis  spoke  up  in  quick  surprise. 

"Why  not  ?"    The  cattleman  smiled. 

"Do  you  mean  with  your  band  of  thugs?" 

"No,  ma'am.     You  and  I  will  be  enough." 

The  suggestion  was  of  a  piece  with  his  usual 
audacity.  The  girl  knew  that  he  would  be  quite 
capable  of  riding  with  her  into  the  hills,  where  he 
had  a  score  of  bitter,  passionate  enemies,  and  of 
affronting  them,  if  the  notion  should  come  into 
his  head,  even  in  their  stronghold.  Within  twenty- 
four  hours  he  had  shot  one  of  them;  yet  he  would 
go  among  them  with  his  jaunty,  mocking  smile  and 
that  hateful  confidence  of  his. 

"You  would  not  be  safe.    They  might  kill  you." 

"Would  that  gratify  you?" 

"Yes!"  she  cried  passionately. 

He  bowed.  "Anything  to  give  pleasure  to  a 
lady." 

"No — you  can't  go!  I  won't  go  with  you.  I 
wouldn't  be  responsible  for  what  might  happen." 

"What  might  happen — another  family  impulse?" 

"You  know  as  well  as  I  do — after  what  you've 
done.  And  there's  bad  blood  between  you  already. 


134  MAVERICKS 

Besides,  you  are  so  reckless,  so  intemperate  in  what 
you  say  and  do." 

"All  right.  If  you  won't  go  with  m^,  I'll  go 
alone,"  he  said. 

She  appealed  to  Keller  to  support  her,,  but  the 
latter  shook  his  head. 

"No  use.  A  wilful  man  must  have  his  way.  If 
he  says  he's  going,  I  reckon  he'll  go.  Bu£  whyfor 
should  I  be  euchred  out  of  nr*  ride.  Let  me  go 
along  to  keep  the  peace." 

Her  eyes  thanked  him.  "If  you  are  sure  you 
can  spare  the  time." 

"Don't  incommode  yourself,  if  you're  in  a  hurry. 
We  won't  miss  you."  Weaver's  cold  stare  more 
than  hinted  that  three  would  be  a  crowd. 

The  younger  man  ignored  him  cheerfully. 
"Time  to  burn,  Miss  Sanderson." 

"You  don't  want  to  let  that  spring  plowing  suf 
fer,"  the  cattleman  suggested  ironically. 

"That's  so.  Glad  you  mentioned  it.  I'll  try 
to  pick  up  some  one  to  do  it  at  the  store,"  returned 
the  optimist. 

"Seems  to  me  there  are  a  pair  of  us,  Mr.  Keller, 
who  may  not  be  welcome  at  Seven  Mile.  Last  time 
you  were  down  there,  weren't  you  the  guest  of  some 
willing  lads  who  were  arranging  a  little  party  for 
you?" 

"Mr.  Weaver,"  reproached  Phyllis,  flushing. 

But  the  reference  did  not  embarrass  the  nester 
in  the  least.  He  laughed  hardily,  meeting  his  rival 


MAVERICKS  135 


eye  to  eye.  "The  boys  did  have  notions,  but  I  ex 
pect  maybe  they  have  got  over  them." 

"Nothing  like  being  hopeful.  Now  I'd  back  my 
show  against  yours  every  day  in  the  week." 

The  girl  handed  his  revolver  back  to  Weaver, 
after  first  asking  a  question  of  the  homesteader 
with  her  eyes. 

"Oh,  I  get  my  hardware  back,  do  I?"  Buck 
grinned. 

Keller  brought  his  horse  round  from  back  of 
Flat  Rock,  where  it  had  been  picketed.  They 
started  at  once,  cutting  across  the  plain  to  a  flat 
butte,  which  thrust  itself  out  from  the  hills  into  the 
valley.  Two  hours  of  steady  travel  brought  them 
to  the  butte,  behind  which  lay  Seven  Mile  ranch 

At  the  first  glimpse  of  the  roofs  shining  in  the 
golden  sunlight  Phyllis  gave  a  cry  of  delight. 

"Home  again.    I  wonder  whether  Father's  here." 

"I  wonder,"  echoed  Weaver  grimly. 

"That  little  fellow  riding  into  the  corral  is  one 
of  my  scholars,"  she  told  them. 

"One  of  the  fourteen  that  loves  you,  Miss  Going- 
On-Eighteen.  My,  there'll  be  joy  in  Israel  over  the 
lost  that  is  found.  I  reckon  by  to-morrow  you'll 
be  teaching  the  young  idea  how  to  shoot."  He 
glanced  down  at  his  bandaged  arm  with  a  malicious 
grin. 

Phyllis  looked  at  him  without  speaking.  It  was 
Keller  who  made  application  of  the  remark. 

"There  are  others  here  beside  her  pupils.     Some 


136  MAVERICKS 


of  them  are  right  quick  and  straight  on  the  shoot, 
Mr.  Weaver.  Now  you've  seen  Miss  Sanderson 
home,  there's  still  time  to  make  your  getaway  with 
out  trouble.  How  about  hitting  the  trail  while  trav 
elling  is  good,  seh?" 

"What's  the  matter  with  you  taking  your  owa 
advice,  Keller?" 

"I  don't  figure  the  need  is  pressing  in  my  case. 
Different  with  you." 

"I  told  you  I  would  back  my  chances  against 
yours.  Well,  I'm  standing  pat  on  that." 

"The  road  will  be  open  to  me  to-morrow.  I  won 
der  will  it  be  open  to  you  then." 

"My  friend,  who  elected  you  guardeen  to  Buck 
Weaver?"  drawled  the  big  man  carelessly. 

"I  wish  you  would  go,"  Phyllis  pleaded,  plainly 
troubled  over  his  obstinacy. 

"Me,  I  always  hated  to  disoblige  a  lady,"  Buck 
admitted. 

"Then  go,"  she  cried  eagerly. 

"But  I  hate  still  more  to  go  back  on  my  word. 
So  I'll  stay." 

There  was  nothing  more  to  be  said.     They  rode 
forward  to  the  ranch.    'Rastus,  at  the  stables,  raised 
a  shout  and  broke  for  the  store  on  the  run. 
:     "Hyer's  Miss  Phyl  done  come  home." 

At  his  call  light-stepping  dusty  men  poured  from 
the  building  like  seeds  from  a  squeezed  orange. 
There  was  a  rush  for  the  girl.  She  was  lifted  from 
her  saddle  and  carried  in  triumph  to  the  porch. 


MAVERICKS  137 


Jim  Sanderson  came  running  from  the  cellar  in  the 
rear  and  buried  her  in  his  arms. 

She  broke  down  and  began  to  cry  a  little.  "Oh, 
Dad — Dad,  I'm  so  glad  to  be  home/' 

The  old  Confederate  veteran  was  close  to  tears 
himself. 

' 'Honey,  I  jes'  got  back  from  town.  Phil,  he 
done  wrong  not  letting  me  know.  I  come  pretty 
nigh  giving  that  boy  the  bud.  Wait  till  I  meet  up 
with  Buck  Weaver.  It's  him  or  me  for  suah  this 
time." 

"No,  Dad,  no!  You  must  let  me  explain.  I've 
been  quite  safe,  and  it's  all  over  now.  Everything 
is  all  right." 

"Is  it?"  Sanderson  laughed  harshly. 

"The  sheriff  telephoned  him  to  keep  me,  but  you 
see  he  brought  me  home." 

"Brought  you  home?"  The  sheepman's  black 
eyes  lifted  quickly  and  met  those  of  his  enemy. 

"So  you're  there,  Buck  Weaver.  I  reckon  you 
and  I  will  settle  accounts." 

Phil  and  Tom  Dixon  had  quietly  circled  round 
so  as  to  cut  off  Weaver's  retreat  in  case  he  at 
tempted  one. 

"He's  got  the  rustler  with  him,"  Tom  Dixon 
cried  quickly. 

"Goddlemighty,  so  he  has.  We'll  make  a  clean 
sweep,"  the  Southerner  cried,  his  eyes  blazing. 

"Then  you'll  destroy  the  man  who  was  ready  to 
give  his  life  for  mine,"  his  daughter  said  quietly. 


138  MAVERICKS 


"What's  that?    How's  that,  Phyllie?" 

"It's  a  long  story.  I  want  you  to  hear  it  all.  But 
not  here." 

Her  voice  fell.  A  sudden  memory  had  come  to 
her  of  one  thing  at  least  that  she  could  not  tell  even/ 
to  him — the  story  of  that  moment  when  she  had 
lain  in  the  arms  of  the  nester  with  his  heart  beat 
ing  against  her  breast. 

The  old  man  caught  her  by  the  shoulder,  holding 
her  at  arm's  length,  while  the  deep  eyes  under  his 
shaggy,  grizzled  brows  pierced  her. 

"What  have  you  got  to  tell  me,  gyurl?  Out  with 
it!" 

But  on  the  heels  of  his  imperative  demand  came 
reassurance.  A  tide  of  color  poured  into  her  face, 
but  her  eyes  met  his  quietly.  They  let  him  under 
stand,  more  certainly  than  words,  that  all  was  well 
with  his  ewe  lamb.  Putting  her  gently  to  one  side, 
he  strode  toward  his  enemy. 

"What  are  you  doing  here,  Buck  Weaver  ?" 

The  cattleman  swept  the  circle  of  lowering  faces, 
and  laughed  contemptuously.  "A  man  might  think 
I  wasn't  welcome  if  he  didn't  know  better." 

"Oh,  you're  welcome — I  reckon  nobody  on  earth 
is  more  welcome  right  now,"  retorted  Sanderson 
grimly.  We  were  starting  right  out  after  you, 
seh.  But  seeing  you're  here  it  saves  trouble.  Bet 
ter  'light,  you  and  your  friend,  both." 

The  declining  sun  flashed  on  three  weapons  that 
already  covered  the  cattleman.  He  looked  easily 


MAVERICKS  139 


from  one  to  another,  without  the  least  concern,  and 
swung  lightly  from  his  horse. 

"Much  obliged.  Glad  to  accept  your  hospitality. 
But  about  this  young  man  here — he's  not  exactly  a 
friend  of  mine — a  mere  pick-up  acquaintance,  in 
fact.  You  mustn't  accept  him  on  my  say-so.  Of 
course,  you  know  I'm  all  right,  but  I  can't  guaran 
tee  him"  Buck  drawled,  with  magnificent  effront- 
eiy. 

Phyllis  spoke  up  unexpectedly.     "I  can." 

Keller  looked  at  her  gratefully.  It  was  not  that 
he  cared  so  much  for  the  certificate  of  character 
as  for  the  friendly  spirit  that  prompted  it.  "That's 
right  kind  of  you,"  he  nodded. 

"We  haven't  heard  yet  what  you  are  doing  here, 
Buck  Weaver,"  old  Jim  Sanderson  said,  holding 
the  cattleman  with  a  hard  and  hostile  eye.  "And 
after  you've  explained  that,  there  are  a  few  other 
things  to  make  clear." 

"Such  as "  suggested  the  plainsman. 

"Such  as  keeping  my  daughter  a  captive  and  in 
sulting  her  while  she  was  in  your  house,"  the  father 
retorted  promptly. 

"I  held  her  captive  because  it  was  my  right.  She 
admitted  shooting  me.  Would  you  expect  me  to 
turn  her  loose,  and  thank  her  right  politely  for  it? 
I  want  to  tell  you  that  some  folks  would  be  right 
grateful  because  I  didn't  send  her  to  the  peni 
tentiary." 

"You  couldn't  send  her  there.     No  jury  in  Ari' 


140  MAVERICKS 


zona  would  convict — even  if  she  were  guilty,"  Tom 
Dixon  broke  out. 

"That's  a  frozen  fact  about  the  Arizona  jury," 
the  cattleman  agreed,  with  a  swift,  careless  look  at 
the  boy.  "Just  the  same,  I  had  a  license  to  hold  her. 
About  the  insult — well,  I've  got  nothing  to  say. 
Nothing  except  this,  that  I  wouldn't  be  wearing 
these  decorations" — he  touched  the  scars  on  his 
face — "if  I  didn't  agree  with  you  that  nobody  but  a 
sweep  would  have  done  it." 

"Everybody  unanimous  on  that  point,  I  reckon," 
said  Jim  Yeager  promptly. 

Phyllis  had  been  speaking  to  her  father  in  a  low 
voice.  The  old  man  listened  with  no  great  patience, 
but  finally  nodded  a  concession  to  her  importunity. 

"We'll  waive  the  matter  of  the  insult  just  now. 
How  about  that  boy  you  shot  up  ?  Looks  like  you're 
a  fool  to  come  drilling  in  here,  with  him  still  lying 
there  on  his  bed." 

"He  took  his  fighting  chance.  You  ain't  kicking 
because  I  played  out  the  game  the  way  you-all 
started  to  play  it?  If  you  are,  I'll  have  to  say  I 
might  have  expected  a  sheep  herder  to  look  at  it 
that  way,"  Weaver  retorted  insolently. 

The  old  man  took  a  grip  on  his  rising  wrath. 
"No — we're  not  kicking,  any  more  than  you've  got 
a  right  to  kick  when  we  settle  accounts  with 
you." 

"As  we're  liable  to  do  right  shortly,  now  we've 
got  you,"  said  Dixon,  vindictively. 


MAVERICKS 


"All  right — go  ahead  with  the  indictment," 
Weaver  acquiesced  quietly,  ignoring  the  boy. 

"Keep  still,  Tom,"  Sanderson  ordered,  and  went 
on  with  his  grievance.  "You  try  to  run  this  val 
ley  as  if  you  were  God  Almighty.  By  your  way  of 
it,  a  man  has  to  come  with  hat  in  hand  to  ask  you  if 
he  may  take  up  land  here.  The  United  States  says 
we  may  homestead,  but  Buck  Weaver  says  we 
shan't.  Uncle  Sam  says  we  may  lease  land  to  run 
sheep.  Buck  Weaver  has  another  notion  of  it. 
We're  to  take  orders  from  him.  If  we  don't  he 
clubs  our  sheep  and  drives  off  our  cattle." 

"Cattle  were  here  first,"  retorted  Weaver.  "The 
range  is  overstocked,  and  they've  got  a  prior  right. 
Nesters  in  the  hills  here  are  making  money  by 
rustling  Twin  Star  calves.  That's  another  thing." 

"Some  of  them.  You'll  not  find  any  rustled 
calves  with  the  Seven  Mile  brand  on  them.  And  we 
don't  recognize  any  prior  right.  We  came  here  le 
gally.  We  intend  to  stay.  Every  time  your  riders 
club  a  bunch  of  our  sheep,  we'll  even  up  on  Twin 
Star  cattle.  You  take  my  daughter  captive ;  I  hold 
you  prisoner." 

"You'll  be  in  luck  if  you  get  away  from  here  with 
a  whole  skin,"  broke  out  Phil.  "You  came  here  to 
please  yourself,  but  you'll  stay  to  please  us." 

"So?"  Buck  smiled  urbanely.  He  was  staying 
because  he  wanted  to,  though  they  never  guessed  it. 

"Unbuckle  his  gun  belt,  Tom,"  ordered  the  old 
man. 


MAVERICKS 


"Save  you  the  trouble."  Weaver  unbuckled  the 
belt  and  tossed  it,  revolver  and  all,  to  Yeager. 

"Now,  Mr.  Weaver,  we'll  adjourn  to  the  house." 

"Anything  to  oblige." 

"What  about  Mr.  Keller?"  Phyllis  asked,  in  a 
low  voice,  of  her  father. 

The  old  man's  keen,  hard  eyes  surveyed  the  stran 
ger.  "Who  is  he?  What  do  you  know  about 
him?" 

As  shortly  as  she  could,  she  told  what  she  knew 
of  Keller,  and  how  he  had  rescued  her  from  cap 
tivity. 

Her  father  strode  forward  and  shook  hands  with 
the  young  man. 

"Make  yourself  at  home,  seh.  We'll  be  glad 
to  have  you  stay  with  us  as  long  as  you  can.  What 
you  have  done  for  my  daughter  puts  us  everlast 
ingly  in  your  debt." 

"Not  worth  mentioning.  And,  to  be  fair,  I  think 
Weaver  was  going  to  bring  her  home,  anyhow." 

"The  way  the  story  reached  me,  he  didn't  men 
tion  it  until  you  had  the  drop  on  him,"  answered 
Sanderson  dryly. 

"That's  right,"  nodded  the  cattleman  ironically, 
from  the  porch.  "You're  the  curly-haired  hero, 
Keller,  and  I'm  the  red-headed  villain  of  this  play. 
You  want  to  beware  of  the  miscreant,  Miss  San 
derson,  or  he'll  sure  do  you  a  meanness." 

Tom  Dixon  eyed  him  frostily.  "I  expect  you'll 
not  do  her  any  meanness,  Buck  Weaver.  From 


MAVERICKS  143 


now  on,  you'll  go  one  way  and  she'll  go  another. 
You'll  be  strangers." 

"You  don't  say!"  Buck  answered,  looking  him 
over  derisively,  as  he  passed  into  the  house. 
"You're  crowing  loud  for  your  size.  And  don't 
you  bet  heavy  on  that  proposition,  my  friend." 


CHAPTER   XI 

TOM  DIXON 

With  whoops  and  a  waving  of  caps  boys  burst 
out  of  one  door,  while  girls  came  out  of  the  oppo 
site  one  more  demurely,  but  with  the  piping  of  gay 
soprano  voices.  For  school  was  out,  and  young 
America  free  of  restraint  for  eighteen  hours  at 
least.  Resilient  youth,  like  a  coiled  spring  that  has 
been  loosed,  was  off  with  a  bound.  Horses  were 
saddled  or  put  to  harness.  The  teacher  came  to 
the  door,  hand  in  hand  with  six-year-olds,  who 
clung  to  her  with  fond  good-bys  before  they 
climbed  into  the  waiting  buggies.  The  last  strag 
gler  disappeared  behind  the  dip  in  the  road. 

The  girl  teacher  turned  from  waving  her  fare 
wells — to  meet  the  eyes  of  a  young  man  fastened 
upon  her.  Light-blue  eyes  they  were,  set  in  a  good- 
looking,  boyish  face,  that  had  somehow  an  effect  of 
petulancy.  It  was  not  a  strong  face,  yet  it  was  no 
weaker  than  nine  out  of  ten  that  one  meets  daily. 

"Got  rid  of  your  kiddies,  Phyl?"  the  young  man 
asked,  with  an  air  of  cheerful  confidence  that 
seemed  to  be  assumed  to  cover  a  doubt. 

Her  eyes  narrowed  slightly.  "They  have  just 
144 


MAVERICKS  145 


gone — all  but  little  Jimmie  Tryon.  He  rides  home 
with  me." 

"Hang  it!  We  never  seem  to  be  alone  any  more 
since  you  came  back,"  complained  the  man. 

"Why  should  we?"  asked  the  young  woman,  her 
gaze  apparently  as  frank  and  direct  as  that  of  a 
boy. 

But  he  understood  it  for  a  challenge.  "You 
didn't  use  to  talk  that  way.  You  used  to  be  glad 
enough  to  see  me  alone,"  he  flung  out. 

"Did  I?  One  outgrows  childish  follies,  I  sup 
pose,"  she  answered  quietly. 

"What's  the  matter  with  you?"  he  cried  angrily., 
"It's  been  this  way  ever  since " 

He  broke  off. 

A  faint,  scornful  smile  touched  her  lips.  "Ever 
since  when,  Tom?" 

"You  know  when  well  enough.  Ever  since  I 
shot  Buck  Weaver." 

"And  left  me  to  pay  forfeit,"  she  suggested 
quickly,  and  as  quickly  broke  off.  "Hadn't  we  bet 
ter  talk  of  something  else?  I've  tried  to  avoid  this. 
Must  we  thrash  it  out?" 

"You  can't  throw  me  over  like  that,  after  what's 
been  between  us.  I  reckon  you  pretend  to  have  for 
gotten  that  I  used  to  keep  company  with  you." 

A  flush  of  annoyance  glowed  through  the  tan  o-f 
her  cheeks,  but  her  eyes  refused  to  yield  to  his. 
"Nonsense!  Don't  talk  foolishness,  Tom.  We 
were  just  children." 


146  MAVERICKS 


"Do  you  mean  that  everything's  all  off  between 
us?" 

"We  made  a  mistake.  Let  us  be  goo3  friends  and 
forget  it,  Tom,"  she  pleaded. 

"What's  the  use  of  talking  that  way,  Phyl?"  He 
swung  from  the  saddle,  and  came  toward  her  eag 
erly.  "I  love  you — always  have  since  I  was  knee- 
high  to  a  grasshopper.  We're  going  to  be  married 
one  of  these  days." 

She  held  up  a  hand  to  keep  him  back.  "No — 
we're  not.  I  know  now  that  you're  not  the  right 
man  for  me,  and  I'm  not  the  right  girl  for  you." 

"I'm  the  best  judge  of  that,"  he  retorted. 

She  shook  her  head  with  certainty.  It  seemed  a 
lifetime  since  this  boy  had  kissed  her  at  the  dance 
and  she  had  run,  tingling,  from  his  embrace.  She 
felt  now  old  enough  in  experience  to  be  his  mother. 

"No,  Tom— let  us  both  forget  it.  Go  back  to 
your  other  girls,  and  let  me  be  just  a  friend." 

"I  haven't  any  other  girls,"  he  answered  sullenly. 
"And  I  won't  be  put  off  like  that.  You've  got  to 
tell  me  what  has  come  between  us.  I've  got  a  right 
to  know,  and  I'm  going  to  know." 

"Yes,  you  have  a  right — but  don't  press  it.  Just 
let  it  go  at  this :  I  didn't  know  my  own  mind  then, 
and  I  do  now." 

"It's  something  about  the  shooting  of  Buck 
Weaver,"  he  growled  uneasily. 

She  was  silent. 

"Well?"  he  demanded.     "Out  with  it!" 


MAVERICKS  147 

"I  couldn't  marry  a  man  I  don't  respect  from  the 
bottom  of  my  heart,"  she  told  him  gently. 

"That's  a  dig  at  me,  I  reckon.  Why  don't  you 
respect  me?  Is  it  because  I  shot  Weaver?" 

"You  shot  him  from  ambush." 

"I  didn't!"  he  protested  angrily.  "You  know 
that  ain't  so,  Phyl.  I  saw  him  riding  down  there, 
as  big  as  coffee,  and  I  let  him  have  it.  I  wasn't  ly 
ing  in  wait  for  him  at  all.  It  just  came  over  me  all 
of  a  heap  to  shoot,  and  I  shot  before " 

"I  understand  that.  But  you  shouldn't  have  shot 
without  giving  warning,  even  if  it  was  right  to 
shoot  at  all — which,  of  course,  it  wasn't." 

"Well,  say  I  did  wrong.  Can't  you  forgive  a  fel 
low  for  making  a  mistake?" 

"It  isn't  a  question  of  forgiveness,  Tom.  Some 
how  it  goes  deeper  than  that.  I  can't  tell  you  just 
what  I  mean." 

"Haven't  I  told  you  I'm  sorry?"  he  demanded, 
with  boyish  impatience. 

"Being  sorry  isn't  enough.  If  you  can't  see  it, 
then  I  can't  explain." 

"You're  sore  at  me  because  I  left  you,"  he  mut 
tered,  and  for  very  shame  his  eyes  could  not  meet 
hers. 

"No — I'm  not  sore  at  you,  as  you  call  it.  I 
haven't  the  least  resentment.  But  there's  no  use  in 
trying  to  hide  the  truth.  Since  you  ask  for  it,  you 
shall  have  it.  I  don't  want  to  be  unkind,  but  I 
couldn't  possibly  marry  you  after  that." 


148  MAVERICKS 


The  young  man  looked  sulkily  across  the  valley, 
his  lips  trembling  with  vexation  and  the  shame  of 
knowing  that  this  girl  had  been  a  witness  of  that 
scene  when  he  had  fled  like  a  scared  rabbit  and  left 
her  to  bear  the  brunt  of  what  he  had  done. 

"You  told  me  to  go,  and  now  you  blame  me  for 
doing  what  you  said/'  he  complained  bitterly. 

She  realized  the  weakness  of  his  defense — that 
he  had  saved  himself  at  the  expense  of  the  girl  he 
claimed  to  love,  simply  because  she  had  offered  her 
self  as  a  sacrifice  in  his  place.  She  thought  of  an 
other  man,  who,  at  the  risk  of  his  life,  had!  held 
back  the  half  dozen  pursuers  just  to  give  a  better 
chance  to  a  girl  he  had  not  known  a  week.  She 
thought  of  the  cattleman  who  had  ridden  gayly  into 
this  valley  of  enemies,  because  he  loved  her,  and 
was  willing  to  face  any  punishment  for  the  wrong 
he  had  done  her.  Her  brother,  too,  pointed  the 
same  moral.  He  had  defied  the  enemy,  though  he 
had  been  in  his  power.  Not  one  of  them  would 
have  done  what  Tom  Dixon,  in  his  panic  terror, 
had  allowed  himself  to  do.  But  they  were  men,  all 
of  them — men  of  that  stark  courage  that  clings  to 
self-respect  rather  than  to  life.  This  youth  had 
met  the  acid  test,  and  had  failed  in  the  assay.  She 
had  no  anger  toward  him — only  a  kindly  pity,  and  a 
touch  of  contempt  which  she  could  not  help. 

"No — I  don't  blame  you,  Tom,"  she  told  him, 
very  kindly.  "But  I  can't  marry  you.  I  couldn't 


MAVERICKS  149 


if  you  explained  till  Christmas.  That  is  final.  Now 
let  us  be  friends." 

She  held  out  her  hand.  He  looked  at  it  through 
the  tears  of  mortification  that  were  in  his  eyes, 
dashed  it  aside  with  an  oath,  swung  to  the  saddle, 
and  galloped  down  the  road. 

Phyllis  gave  a  wistful  sigh.  Tears  filmed  her 
eyes.  He  was  her  first  lover,  had  given  her  apples 
and  candy  hearts  when  he  was  in  the  third  grade 
and  she  learning  her  A,  B,  C.  So  she  felt  a  heart 
ache  to  see  him  go  like  this.  Their  friendship  was 
shattered,  too.  Nor  had  she  experience  enough  to 
know  that  this  could  not  have  endured,  save  as  a 
form,  after  the  wrench  he  had  given  it.  Yet  she 
knew  him  well  enough  now  to  be  sure  that  it  was 
his  vanity  and  self-esteem  that  were  hurt,  and  not 
his  love.  He  would  soon  find  consolation  among 
the  other  ranch  girls,  upon  whom  he  had  been  used 
to  lavish  his  attentions  at  intervals  when  she  was 
not  handy  to  receive  them. 

"Was  Tom  Dixon  mean  to  you,  teacher?" 

Little  five-year-old  Jimmie  Tryon  was  standing 
before  her,  feet  apart,  fists  knotted,  and  brow  fur 
rowed.  She  swooped  upon  her  champion  and 
snatched  him  up  for  a  kiss. 

"Nobody  has  been  mean  to  teacher,  Jimmie,  you 
dear  little  kiddikins,"  she  cried.  "It's  all  right, 
honev.  Tom  thinks  it  isn't,  but  before  long  he'll 

I010W  it  IS." 


150  MAVERICKS 


"Who'll  tell  him?"  Jimmie  wanted  to  know 
anxiously. 

"Some  nice  girl,  little  curiosity  box.  I  don't 
know  who  yet,  but  it  will  be  one  of  two  or  three 
I  could  name,"  she  laughed. 

She  harnessed  the  horse  and  hitched  it  to  the  trap 
in  which  Jimmie  and  she  came  to  school.  But  be 
fore  she  had  gathered  up  the  reins  to  start,  an 
other  young  man  strolled  upon  the  scene. 

This  one  was  walking  and  carried  a  rifle. 

At  sight  of  him  a  glow  began  to  burn  through 
her  dark  cheeks.  They  had  not  been  alone  together 
before  since  that  moment  when  the  stress  of  their 
emotion  had  swept  them  to  a  meeting  of  warm 
lips  and  warm  bodies  that  had  startled  her  by  the 
electric  pulsing  of  her  blood. 

Her  eyes  could  not  hold  to  his.  Shame  dragged 
the  lashes  down. 

With  him  it  was  not  shame.  The  male  in  him 
rode  triumphant  because  he  had  moved  a  girl  to  the 
deeps  of  her  nature.  But  something  in  him,  some 
saving  sense  of  embarrassment,  of  reverence  for 
the  purity  and  innocence  he  sensed  in  her,  made 
him  shrink  from  pressing  the  victory.  His  mind 
cast  about  for  a  commonplace  with  which  to  meet 
her. 

He  held  up  as  a  trophy  of  his  prowess  two  cot 
tontails.  "Who  says  I  can't  shoot?"  he  wanted  to 
know  boisterously. 


MAVERICKS  151 


"Where  did  you  buy  them?"  she  scoffed,  faintly 
trying  for  sauciness. 

"That's  a  fine  reward  for  honest  virtue,  after  I 
tramped  five  miles  to  get  them  for  your  supper," 
protested  Keller. 

She  recovered  her  composure  quickly,  as  women 
will. 

"If  they  are  for  my  supper,  we'll  have  to  ask 
him  to  ride  home  with  us — won't  we,  Jimmie?  It 
would  never  do  to  have  them  reach  the  ranch  too 
late,"  she  said,  making  room  for  Keller  in  the  seat 
beside  her. 

It  was  after  she  had  driven  several  hundred  yards 
that  he  said,  with  a  smile :  "I  met  a  young  man  on 
horseback  as  I  was  coming  up.  He  went  by  me  like 
a  streak  of  light.  Looked  like  he  found  this  a  right 
mournful  world.  You  had  ought  to  scatter  sun 
shine  and  not  gloom,  Miss  Phyllis." 

"Am  I  scattering  gloom?"  she  asked  demurely. 

"Not  right  now,"  he  laughed.  "But  looks  like 
you  have  been." 

She  flicked  a  fly  from  the  flank  of  her  horse  be 
fore  she  answered :  "Some  people  are  so  noticing." 

"It  was  hanging  right  heavy  on  him.  Had  the 
look  of  a  man  who  had  lost  his  last  friend,"  the 
young  man  observed  meditatively. 

"Dear  me !    How  pathetic !" 

"Yes — he  sure  looked  like  he'd  rejoice  to  plug 
another  cattleman.  I  'most  arranged  to  send  for 
Buck  Weaver  again,"  said  Keller  calmly. 


152  MAVERICKS 


Phyllis  turned  on  him  eyes  brilliant  with  amaze 
ment  "What's  that  you  say?" 

"I  said  he  looked  some  like  he'd  admire  to  go 
gunning  again." 

"Yes,  but  you  said  too " 

"Sho!  I've  been  using  my  eyes  and  ears.  I 
never  did  find  that  story  of  yours  easy  to  swallow. 
When  I  discovered  from  your  brother  that  you  was 
riding  with  Tom  Dixon  the  day  Buck  was  shot, 
and  when  I  found  out  from  'Rastus  that  the  gun 
that  did  the  shooting  was  Dixon's,  I  surely  smelt 
a  mouse.  Come  to  mill  the  thing  out,  I  knew  you 
led  Buck's  boys  off  on  a  blind  trail,  while  the  real 
coyote  hunted  cover." 

"He  isn't  a  coyote,"  she  objected. 

Larrabie  thought  of  the  youth  with  a  faint  smile 
of  scorn.  He  knew  how  to  respect  an  out-and-out 
villain;  but  there  was  no  bottom  to  a  man  who 
would  shoot  from  cover  without  warning,  and  then 
leave  a  girl  to  bear  the  blame  of  his  wrongdoing. 
"No — I  reckon  coyote  is  too  big  a  name  for  him," 
he  admitted. 

"Buck  Weaver  ruined  his  father  and  drove  him 
from  his  homestead.  It  was  natural  he  should  feel 
a  grudge." 

"That's  all  right,  too.  We're  talking  about  the 
way  he  settled  it.  How  come  you  to  let  him  do  it  ?" 

"I  was  riding  about  twenty  yards  behind  him. 
Suddenly  I  saw  his  gun  go  up,  and  stopped.  I 
thought  it  might  be  an  antelope.  As  soon  as  he 


MAVERICKS  153 


had  fired,  he  turned  and  told  me  he  had  shot 
Weaver.  The  poor  boy  was  crazy  with  fear,  now 
that  he  had  done  it.  I  took  his  gun  and  made  him 
hide  in  the  big  rocks,  while  I  cut  across  toward  the 
canon.  The  men  saw  me,  and  gave  chase." 

"They  fired  at  you.  Thank  God,  none  of  them 
hit  you,"  said  Keller,  with  emphasis. 

Her  swift  gaze  appreciated  the  deep  feeling  that 
welled  from  him.  "Of  course  they  did  not  know  I 
was  a  woman.  All  they  could  see  was  that  some 
body  was  riding  through  the  chaparral." 

"Jimmie,  wrhat  do  you  think  of  a  girl  game 
enough  to  take  so  big  a  chance  to  save  a  friend? 
Deserves  a  Carnegie  medal,  don't  you  reckon?" 
Keller  put  the  question  to  the  third  passenger,  using 
him  humorously  as  a  vent  to  his  feelings. 

Phyllis  did  not  look  at  him,  nor  he  at  her.  "And 
what  do  you  think  of  a  man  game  enough  to  take 
the  same  chance  to  save  a  girl  who  was  not  even 
a  friend?"  the  girl  asked  of  little  Jimmie,  as  lightly 
as  she  could. 

"Wasn't  she?  Well,  if  my  friends  will  save  my 
life  every  time  I  need  them  to,  like  this  enemy  did, 
il'll  be  satisfied  with  them  a-plenty." 

"He  stood  by  her,  too,"  she  answered,  trying  to 
keep  the  matter  impersonal. 

"Perhaps  he  wanted  to  make  her  his  friend," 
Larrabie  suggested. 

"There  is  no  perhaps  about  his  success,"  she  said 
quietly,  her  gaze  just  beyond  the  ears  of  her  horse. 


154  MAVERICKS 


The  young  man  dared  now  to  look  at  her — a  child 
of  the  sun  despite  her  duskiness.  Eagerly  he 
awaited  the  deep,  lustrous  eyes  that  would  pres 
ently  sweep  round  upon  him,  big  and  dark  and 
sparkling.  When  she  turned  her  head,  they  were 
full  of  that  new  womanly  dignity  that  yet  did  not 
obscure  the  shy  innocence. 

"Look!"  Jimmie  Tryon  pointed  suddenly  to  the 
figure  of  a  man  disappearing  from  the  road  into 
the  mesquite  two  hundred  yards  in  front  of  them. 

"That's  odd.  I  reckon  you'd  better  wait  here, 
and  let  me  investigate  a  few,"  suggested  Keller. 

"Be  careful,"  she  said  anxiously. 

"It's  all  right.  Don't  worry,"  the  young  man  as 
sured  her. 

He  got  down  from  the  trap  and  dived  into  the 
underbrush,  rifle  in  hand.  The  two  in  the  buggy 
waited  a  long  time.  No  sound  came  to  them  from 
the  cactus-covered  waste  to  indicate  what  was  hap 
pening.  When  Phyllis'  watch  told  her  that  he  had 
been  gone  ten  minutes,  a  cheerful  hail  came  from 
the  road  in  front. 

"All  right.    Come  on." 

But  it  was  far  from  all  right.     Keller  had  with  ( 
him  an  old  Mexican  herder,  called  Manuel  Quito —  * 
a  man  in  the  employ  of  her  father.     A  bandanna* 
was  tied  round  his  shoulder,  and  it  was  soaked  with 
bloodstains.     He  told  his  story  with  many  shrugs 
and   much   excited   gesticulation.      He   and   Jesus 
Menendez  had  been  herding  on  Lone  Pine  when 


MAVERICKS  155 


riders  of  the  Twin  Star  outfit  had  descended  upon 
them  and  attacked  the  sheep.  He  and  Menendez 
had  elected  to  fight,  and  Jesus  had  been  shot  down ; 
he  himself  had  barely  escaped  with  his  life — and 
that  not  without  a  wound.  The  cow-punchers  had 
followed  him,  and  continued  to  fire  at  him,  but  he 
had  succeeded  in  escaping.  Yes — he  felt  sure  that 
Menendez  was  dead.  Even  if  he  had  not  been  dead 
at  first,  they  would  have  killed  him. 

Keller  consulted  Miss  Sanderson  silently.  He 
knew  that  she  was  thinking  the  thought  that  was 
in  his  own  mind.  It  would  never  do  to  let  this 
story  reach  her  father  and  her  brother,  while  Buck 
Weaver  was  still  in  their  power.  Inflamed  as  they 
already  were  against  him,  they  would  surely  do  in 
hot  blood  that  which  they  would  repent  later.  Some 
how,  Keller  and  she  must  hold  back  the  news  until 
they  could  contrive  a  way  to  free  the  cattleman. 

"Best  leave  Manuel  at  the  Tryon  place  till  morn 
ing.  They  will  look  out  for  him  as  well  as  you 
can.  That  will  give  us  twelve  hours  to  work  before 
they  hear  what  has  happened." 

"But  what  about  poor  Jesus,  lying  out  there 
alone?" 

"We'll  get  Bob  Tryon  to  drive  out.  But  you 
needn't  worry  about  Jesus.  If  they  found  him  still 
living,  the  Twin  Star  boys  will  attend  to  him  just 
as  kindly  as  we  could.  Cowboys  have  tender  hearts, 
even  though  they  go  off  at  half  cock." 

They  did  as  Keller  had  suggested,  and  left  the 


156  MAVERICKS 


old  Mexican  under  the  care  of  Mrs.  Tryon,  having 
pledged  the  family  to  a  reluctant  silence  until  morn 
ing.  Manuel's  wound  was  not  a  bad  one,  and 
there  seemed  to  be  no  reason  why  he  should  not 
do  well. 

It  was  difficult  to  decide  upon  a  plan  for  the  re- . 
lease  of  Weaver.  He  was  confined  in  an  old  log 
cabin  and  watched  continually  by  some  one  of  the 
riders ;  but  a  tentative  plan  was  accepted,  subject  to 
revision  if  a  better  chance  of  escape  should  occur. 
The  success  of  this  depended  upon  the  possibility 
of  Keller  drawing  off  the  guard  by  a  diversion, 
while  Phyllis  slipped  in  and  freed  the  prisoner. 

The  outlook  was  not  roseate,  but  nothing  better 
occurred  to  them.  One  thing  was  sure — if  Buck 
Weaver  was  not  out  of  the  hands  of  his  enemies 
before  the  news  of  this  last  outrage  of  his  cowboys 
reached  them,  his  chance  of  life  was  not  worth 
even  an  odds-on  bet.  For  the  hot  blood  of  the 
South  raced  through  the  veins  of  the  sheepmen. 
They  would  strike  first  and  think  about  it  after 
ward.  And  without  doubt  that  first  swift  blow 
would  be  a  deadly  one. 


CHAPTER   XII 

THE  ESCAPE 

For  the  sixth  time  since  the  three-quarters,  Phyl 
lis  looked  at  her  watch  by  the  light  of  a  full  moon, 
which  shone  through  the  window  of  her  bedroom. 
The  hands  indicated  five  minutes  to  one. 

In  her  stocking  feet  she  stole  out  of  the  room, 
downstairs,  and  along  the  porch  to  the  heavy  shad 
ows  cast  by  the  cucumber  vines  that  screened  one 
end  of  it.  Here  she  waited,  heart  in  mouth  and 
pulse  beating  like  a  trip  hammer. 

Presently  came  the  mournful  hoot  of  an  owl 
from  the  live  oaks  over  in  the  pasture.  Softly  her 
clear,  melodious  voice  flung  back  the  signal.  Again 
the  minutes  drummed  eternally  in  silence. 

But  when  at  last  this  was  shattered,  it  was  with 
a  crash  to  wake  the  dead.  The  girl  marvelled  that 
one  man  could  fire  so  rapidly,  and  so  often.  The 
night  seemed  to  crackle  with  rifle  and  revolver 
shots.  To  judge  from  the  sound,  there  might  be 
a  company  engaged. 

The  expected  happened.  The  door  of  the  cabin, 
in  which  lay  the  prisoner  and  Tom  Dixon,  was 

157 


158  MAVERICKS 


flung  open.  A  dark  form  filled  the  doorway,  and 
the  moonlight  gleamed  on  the  shining  barrel  of  a 
rifle.  For  an  instant  Tom  stood  so,  trying  to  locate 
the  source  of  the  firing.  He  disappeared  into  the 
cabin,  then  reappeared.  The  door  was  closed  and 
locked.  Taking  what  cover  he  could  find,  Tom 
slipped  over  the  fence,  and  into  the  mesquite  on  the 
other  side  of  the  road. 

Phyllis  darted  forward  like  a  flame.  Her  trem 
bling  fingers  fitted  a  key  to  the  lock  of  the  cabin. 
Opening  the  door,  she  slipped  in  and  closed  it  be 
hind  her. 

"Where  are  you?"  her  young  voice  breathed. 

"Over  here  by  the  fireplace.  What  is  it  all  about, 
Miss  Sanderson?" 

She  groped  her  way  to  him.  "Never  mind  now. 
We've  got  to  hurry.  Are  you  tied?" 

"Yes— hands  and  feet." 

A  beam  of  light  through  the  window  showed  the 
flash  of  a  knife.  With  a  few  hacks  of  the  blade, 
she  had  freed  him.  He  was  about  to  rise  when  the 
door  opened  and  a  head  was  thrust  in. 

"What's  the  row,  Tom?" 

Weaver  growled  an  answer.  "He  isn't  here. 
Pulled  out  when  the  firing  began.  I  wish  you'd 
tell  me  what  it  is  all  about." 

But  the  head  was  already  withdrawn,  and  its 
owner  scudding  toward  the  fray.  Phyllis  rose 
from  the  foot  of  the  cot,  where  she  had  crouched. 

"Cornel"  she  told  the  cattleman  imperiously,  and 


MAVERICKS  159 


led  the  way  from  the  cabin  in  a  hurried  flight  for 
the  porch  shadows. 

They  had  scarcely  reached  these  when  another 
half -clad  figure  emerged  from  the  house,  rifle  in 
hand,  and  plunged  across  the  road  into  the  cacti. 
He,  too,  headed  for  the  scene  of  the  now  intermit* 
tent  shooting. 

"Now!"  cried  Phyllis,  and  gave  her  hand  to  the 
man  huddled  beside  her. 

She  led  him  into  the  dark  house,  up  the  stairs, 
and  into  her  room.  He  would  have  prolonged  the 
sweet  intimacy  of  that  minute  had  it  been  in  his 
power;  but,  once  inside  the  chamber,  she  withdrew 
her  fingers. 

"Stay  here  till  I  come  back,"  she  ordered.  "I 
must  show  myself,  so  as  not  to  arouse  suspicion." 

"But  tell  me — what  does  it  mean?"  demanded 
Buck. 

"It  means  we're  trying  to  save  your  life.  What 
ever  happens,  don't  leave  this  room  or  let  yourself 
be  seen  at  the  window.  If  you  do,  we're  lost." 

With  that  she  was  gone,  flying  down  the  stairs 
to  show  herself  as  an  apparition  of  terror  to  learn 
\what  was  wrong. 

She  heard  the  returning  warriors  as  they  reached 
the  door  of  the  log  cabin.  They  had  thrashed 
through  the  live-oak  grove  and  found  nothing,  and 
were  now  hurrying  back  to  the  prison  house,  full  oi 
suspicions. 

"He's  gone !"  she  heard  Phil  cry  from  within* 


160  MAVERICKS 


Came  then  the  sound  of  excited  voices,  and  pres 
ently  the  shaft  of  light  from  a  kerosene  lamp.  Feet 
trampled  in  the  cabin.  Phyllis  heard  the  cot  being 
kicked  over.  This  moment  she  chose  for  her  en 
trance. 

"What  in  the  world  is  the  matter  ?"  she  asked  in 
nocently,  from  the  doorway. 

"He's  got  away— we 've  been  tricked !"  Tom  told 
her  furiously. 

"But— how?" 

"Never  mind,  Phyl.  Go  back  to  your  room. 
There  may  be  trouble  yet.  By  God,  there  will  be  if 
we  find  him,  or  his  friends!"  her  father  swore. 

Another  figure  blocked  the  doorway.  This  time 
it  was  Keller,  hatless  and  coatless,  as  if  he  had 
come  quickly  from  a  hurried  waking.  He,  too, 
fired  blandly  the  inevitable:  "What's  the  trouble?" 

"Nothing — except  that  we  are  a  bunch  of  first- 
class  locoed  fools,"  snapped  Tom.  "We've  lost  our 
prisoner — that's  what's  the  matter." 

Larrabie  came  in  and  looked  inquiringly  from 
one  to  another.  "I  thought  you  kept  him  guarded.* 

"We  did,  but  they  drew  Tom  off  on  a  false  trail," 
explained  Phil. 

"I  notice  they  worked  the  rest  of  us,  too,"  re 
torted  his  father  tartly. 

"I  heard  the  shooting,"  Keller  said  innocently. 
His  eyes  drifted  to  a  meeting  with  those  of  Phyllis. 
His  telegraphed  a  question,  and  hers  answered  that 
the  prisoner  was  safe  so  far. 


MAVERICKS  161 


"A  dead  man  could  have  heard  it,"  suggested 
Phil,  not  without  sarcasm.  "Sounded  like  a  battle 
— and  when  we  got  there  not  a  soul  could  be  found. 
Beats  me  how  they  got  away  so  slick." 

Annoyance,  disappointment,  disgust  were  in  the 
air.  Keller  remained  to  be  properly  sympathetic, 
while  Phyllis  slipped  back  to  her  room,  as  she  had 
been  told  to  do. 

She  found  Weaver  sitting  by  the  window  looking 
out.  He  turned  his  head  quickly  when  she  entered. 

"Now,  if  you'll  kindly  tell  me  what's  doing,  I'll 
not  die  of  curiosity,"  he  began. 

"It's  all  your  wicked  men,"  she  told  him  bluntly. 
"They  have  killed  one  of  our  herders  and  wounded 
another.  Mr.  Keller  and  I  met  the  wounded  man 
as  he  was  coming  back  to  the  ranch.  We  stopped 
him  and  took  him  to  a  neighbor's.  If  they  had 
known,  my  people  would  have  revenged  themselves 
on  you.  They  are  hot-blooded  men,  quick  to  strike. 
I  was  afraid — we  were  both  afraid  of  what  they 
would  do.  So  we  planned  your  escape.  Mr.  Kel 
ler  slipped  into  the  chaparral,  and  feigned  an  at 
tack  upon  the  ranch,  to  draw  the  boys  off.  I  had 
got  the  other  key  to  the  cabin  from  the  nail  above 
father's  bed.  When  Tom  left,  I  came  to  you.  That 
is  all." 

"But  what  am  I  to  do  here?" 

"They  will  scour  the  valley  and  watch  the  pass. 
If  we  had  let  you  go,  the  chances  are  they  would 
have  caught  you  again," 


162  MAVERICKS 


"And  if  they  had  caught  me,  you  think  they 
would  have  killed  me?" 

"Doesn't  the  Bible  say  that  he  who  takes  the 
sword  shall  perish  by  the  sword?  Are  you  a  god, 
:that  you  should  kill  when  you  please  and  expect  to 
^'escape  the  law  that  has  been  written?" 

"You  say  I  deserve  death,  yet  you  save  my  life." 

"I  don't  want  blood  on  the  hands  of  my  people." 

"Personally,  then,  I  don't  count  in  the  matter," 
said  Weaver,  with  his  old  sneer. 

She  had  saved  him,  but  her  anger  was  hot  against 
the  slayers  of  poor  Jesus  Menendez.  "Why  should 
you  count?  I  am  no  judge  of  how  great  a  punish 
ment  you  deserve;  but  my  father  and  my  brother 
shall  not  inflict  it,  if  I  can  help.  They  must  not 
carry  the  curse  of  Cain  on  them." 

"But  Cain  killed  a  brother,"  he  jeered.  "I  am 
not  a  brother,  but  a  wolfish  Amalekite.  Come — 
the  harvest  is  ripe.  Send  me  forth  to  the  reapers." 

He  arose  as  if  to  go;  but  she  was  at  the  door 
before  him,  arms  extended  to  block  the  way. 

"No,  no,  no !  Are  you  mad  ?  I  tell  you  they  will 
kill  you  to-morrow,  when  the  news  comes." 

"The  judgment  of  the  Lord  upon  the  wicked,"  he 
answered,  with  his  derisive  smile. 

"You  do  nothing  but  mock — at  your  own  death, 
at  that  of  others.  But  you  shan't  go.  I've  saved 
you.  Your  life  belongs  to  me,"  she  cried,  a  little 
wildly 

"If  you  put  it  that  way " 


MAVERICKS  163 


"You  know  what  I  mean,"  she  broke  in  fiercely. 
"Don't  dare  to  pretend  to  misunderstand  me.  I've 
saved  you  from  my  people.  You  shan't  go  back  to 
them  out  of  spite  or  dare-deviltry." 

"Just  as  you  say." 

"I  should  think  you'd  be  ashamed  to  be  so  trivial 
You  seem  to  think  all  our  lives  are  planned  foi 
your  amusement." 

"I  wish  yours  were  planned "     He  pulled 

himself  up  short.  "You're  right,  Miss  Sanderson, 
I'm  acting  like  a  schoolboy.  I'll  put  myself  in  your 
hands.  Whatever  you  want  me  to  do,  I'll  do." 

"I  want  you  to  stay  here  until  they  come  back 
from  searching  for  you.  You  may  have  to  spend 
all  day  in  this  room.  Nobody  will  come  here,  and 
you  will  be  quite  safe.  When  night  comes  again, 
we'll  arrange  a  chance  for  you  to  get  away." 

"But  I'll  be  driving  you  out,"  he  protested. 

"I'm  going  to  sleep  with  Anna — the  daughter  of 
our  housekeeper,  Mrs.  Allan.  She'll  suppose  me 
nervous  on  account  of  the  shooting.  Lock  the  door. 
I'll  give  three  taps  when  I  want  to  come  in.  If 
anybody  else  knocks,  don't  answer.  You  may  sleep 
without  fear."  [ 

"Just  a  moment."  He  flung  up  a  hand  to  detain 
her,  then  poured  out  in  a  low  voice  part  of  the 
feeling  pent  up  in  him.  "Don't  think  I  haven't  the 
decency  to  appreciate  this.  I  don't  care  why  you 
do  it.  The  point  is  that  you  have  saved  my  life. 
I  can't  begin  to  tell  you  what  I  think  of  this.  You'll 


164  MAVERICKS 


surely  have  to  take  my  thanks  for  granted  till  I  get 
a  chance  to  prove  them." 

She  nodded,  her  eyes  grown  suddenly  shy. 
"That's  all  right,  then."  And  with  that  she  left 
^him  to  himself. 

Buck  Weaver  could  not  sleep  for  the  thoughts 
^that  crowded  upon  him;  but  they  were  not  of  his 
danger,  great  as  that  still  was.  The  joy  of  her,  and 
of  the  thing  she  had  done,  flooded  him.  He  might 
pretend  to  cynicism  to  hide  his  deep  pleasure  in  it; 
none  the  less,  he  was  moved  profoundly. 

The  night  wore  itself  away,  but  before  morn 
ing  had  broken  he  saw  her  again.  She  came  with 
her  three  light  taps,  and  he  opened  the  door  to  find 
her  in  the  passage  with  a  tray  of  food. 

"I  didn't  dare  cook  you  any  coffee.  There's 
nothing  hot — just  what  happened  to  be  in  the  pan 
try.  Mrs.  Allan  won't  miss  it,  because  the  boys 
are  always  foraging  at  all  hours.  She'll  think  one 
of  them  got  hungry.  Of  course,  I  couldn't  wait  till 
morning,"  she  explained,  as  she  put  the  tray  on 
the  table. 

Weaver  experienced  anew  the  stress  of  humility 
and  emotion.  He  caught  up  her  little  hand  and 
crushed  it  with  a  passion  of  tenderness  in  his  great 
fist.  She  looked  at  him  in  the  old,  startled,  shy 
way ;  then  snatched  her  hand  from  him,  and,  with  a 
wildly  beating  heart,  scudded  along  the  passage  and 
down  the  back  stairs. 

He  sank  into  a  chair,  with  a  groan.    What  use? 


MAVERICKS  165 


This  creature,  fine  as  silk,  the  heiress  of  all  that 
youth  had  to  offer  in  daintiness  and  charm,  was  not 
— could  not  be  for  such  as  he.  He  had  gone  too 
far  on  the  road  to  hell,  ever  to  find  such  a  heaven 
open  to  him. 

How  long  he  sat  so,  he  did  not  know.  Probably 
not  long,  but  gray  morning  was  sweeping  back  the 
curtain  of  darkness  when  he  came  from  his  ab 
sorption  with  a  start.  Somebody  had  tapped  thrice 
for  admittance. 

He  arose  and  unlocked  the  door.  A  young 
woman  stood  outside  the  threshold,  peering  into 
the  semi-darkness  toward  him. 

"Is  it  you,  Phyl  ?"  she  asked. 

The  cattleman  said  nothing.  On  the  spur  of  the 
moment,  he  could  not  think  of  the  fitting  speech. 
The  eyes  of  his  visitor,  becoming  accustomed  to 
the  dim  light,  saw  before  her  the  outline  of  a  man. 
She  let  out  a  startled  little  scream  that  ended  in  a 
laugh  of  apology. 

"It's  Phil,  isn't  it?" 

There  was  no  way  out  of  it.  "No — it's  not  Phil. 
Come  in,  ma'am,  and  I'll  explain,"  said  Buck 
Weaver. 

Instead,  she  turned  and  ran  headlong,  along  the1 
passage,  down  the  stairs,  and  into  the  kitchen. 
Here  she  came  face  to  face  with  her  young  mis 
tress. 

"What's  the  matter?  You  look  as  if  you  had 
seen  a  ghost." 


166  MAVERICKS 


"I  have!     At  least,   I've  seen  a  man  in  your 


room." 


"In  my  room?  What  were  you  doing  there?" 
demanded  Phyllis  sharply. 

"Looking  for  you.  I  wakened  and  found  you 
gone.  I  thought — oh,  I  don't  know  what  I 
thought." 

Phyllis  knew  perfectly  how  it  had  come  about. 
Anna  Allan  was  a  very  curiosity  box  and  a  born 
gossip.  She  had  to  have  her  little  pug  nose  in 
everybody's  business. 

"So  you  think  you  saw  somebody  in  my  room?" 
her  mistress  said  quietly. 

"I  don't  think.     I  saw  him." 

"Saw  whom?  Phil,  or  was  it  Father?"  suggested 
the  other,  with  a  hint  of  gentle  scorn. 

"No — he  was  a  stranger.  I  think  it  was  Mr. 
Weaver,  but  I'm  not  sure." 

"Nonsense,  Anna!  Don't  be  foolish.  What 
would  he  be  doing  there?  I'll  go  and  see  myself. 
You  stay  here." 

She  went,  and  returned  presently.    "It  must  have 

been  one  of  the  boys.     I  wouldn't  say  anything 

about  it,  Anna.     No  use  stirring  up  bogeys  now, 

vvhen  everybody  is  excited  over  the  escape  of  that 

>man." 

"All  right,  ma'am.  But  I  saw  somebody,  just 
the  same,"  the  girl  maintained  obstinately. 

"No  doubt  it  was  Phil.    He  was  up  to  see  me." 

Anna  said  no  more  then;  but  she  took  occasion 


MAVERICKS  167 


later  to  find  out  from  Phil,  without  letting  him 
know  that  she  was  pumping  him,  that  he  had  been 
searching  the  hills  until  after  six  o'clock.  One  by 
one  she  eliminated  every  man  in  the  house  as  a  pos* 
sibility.  In  the  end,  she  could  not  doubt  her  eyes 
and  her  ears.  Her  young  mistress  had  lied  to  her, 
to  save  the  man  in  her  room. 


CHAPTER   XIII 

A   MISTAKE 

At  breakfast,  a  ranchman  brought  in  the  news  of 
the  attack  upon  the  sheep  camp,  and  by  means  of 
it  set  fire  to  a  powder  magazine.  The  Sandersons 
went  ramping  mad  for  the  moment.  They  saw  red ; 
and  if  they  could  have  laid  hands  on  their  enemy, 
they  would  undoubtedly  have  made  an  end  of  him. 

Phyllis,  seeing  the  fury  of  their  passion,  trem 
bled  for  the  safety  of  the  man  upstairs.  He  might 
be  discovered  at  any  moment.  Yet  she  must  go  to 
school  as  if  nothing  were  the  matter,  and  leave  him 
to  whatever  fate  might  have  in  store. 

When  the  time  came  for  her  to  go,  she  could 
hardly  bring  herself  to  leave. 

She  was  in  her  room,  putting  in  the  few  minutes 
she  usually  spent  there,  rearranging  her  hair  and 
giving  the  last  few  touches  to  her  toilet  after  the 
breakfast. 

"I  hate  to  go,"  she  confessed  to  Weaver.  "Prom 
ise  me  you'll  not  make  a  sound  or  open  the  door  to 
anybody  while  I'm  away." 

"I  promise,"  he  told  her. 
168 


MAVERICKS  169 


She  was  very  greatly  troubled,  and  could  not  help 
showing  it.  Her  face  was  wan  and  drawn,  all  the 
youthful  life  stricken  out  of  it. 

"It  will  be  all  right,"  he  reassured  her.  "I'll  sit 
'here  and  read,  without  making  a  sound.  Nothing 
will  happen.  You'll  see." 

"Oh,  I  hope  not — I  hope  not!"  she  cried  in  a 
whisper.  "You  will  be  careful,  won't  you?" 

"I  sure  will.  A  hen  with  one  chick  won't  be  a 
circumstance  to  me." 

Larrabie  Keller  had  hitched  her  horse  and 
brought  it  round  to  the  front  door.  She  leaned 
toward  him  after  she  had  gathered  the  reins. 

"You'll  not  go  far  away,  will  you?  And  if  any 
thing  happens " 

"But  it  won't     Why  should  it?" 

"Anna  knows.     She  blundered  upon  him." 

"Will  she  keep  it  quiet?" 

"I  think  so,  but  she's  a  born  gossip.  Don't  leave 
her  alone  with  the  boys." 

"All  right,"  he  nodded. 

"I  feel  as  if  I  ought  to  stay  at  home,"  the  young 
teacher  said  piteously,  hoping  that  he  would  en 
courage  her  to  do  so. 

He  shook  his  head.  "No — you've  got  to  go,  to 
divert  suspicion.  It  will  be  all  right  here.  I'll  keep 
both  eyes  open.  Don't  forget  that  I'm  going  to  be 
on  the  job  all  day." 

"You're  so  good!" 

"After  I've  been  around  you  a  while.    It's  catch* 


170  MAVERICKS 


ing."  He  tucked  in  the  dust  robe,  without  looking 
at  her. 

But  she  looked  at  him,  as  she  started,  with  that 
swift,  shy  glance  of  hers,  and  felt  the  pink  tint  her 
cheeks  beneath  the  tan.  He  was  much  in  her 
thoughts,  this  slender  brown  man  with  the  look  of 
quiet  competence  and  strength.  Ever  since  that 
night  in  the  kitchen,  he  had  impressed  himself 
upon  her  imagination.  She  had  fallen  into  the  way 
of  comparing  him  with  Tom  Dixon,  with  her  own 
brother,  with  Buck  Weaver — and  never  to  his  dis 
advantage. 

He  talked  with  a  drawl.  He  walked  and  rode 
with  an  air  of  languid  ease.  But  the  man  himself, 
behind  the  indolence  that  sat  upon  him  so  grace 
fully,  was  like  a  coiled  spring.  Sometimes  she  could 
see  this  force  in  his  eyes,  when  for  the  moment  some 
thought  eclipsed  the  gay  good  humor  of  them. 
Winsome  he  was.  He  had  already  won  her  father, 
even  as  he  had  won  her.  But  the  touch  of  affection 
in  his  manner  never  suggested  weakness. 

From  the  porch  Tom  Dixon  watched  her  de 
parture  sullenly.  Since  he  could  not  have  her,  he 
let  himself  grow  jealous  of  the  man  who  perhaps 
could.  And  because  he  was  what  he  was — a  small 
man,  full  of  vanity  and  conceit — he  must  needs 
make  parade  of  himself  with  another  girl  in  the 
role  of  conquering  squire.  Larrabie  smiled  as  the 
young  fellow  went  off  for  a  walk  in  obviously  con- 


MAVERICKS  171 


fidential  talk  with  Anna  Allan,  but  he  learned  soon 
that  it  was  no  smiling  matter. 

Half  an  hour  later,  the  girl  came  flying  back 
along  the  trail  the  two  had  taken.  Catching  sight 
of  Keller,  she  ran  across  to  him,  plainly  quivering 
with  excitement  and  fluttering  with  fears. 

"Oh,  Mr.  Keller— I've  done  it  now!  I  didn't 
think I  thought " 

"Take  it  easy,"  soothed  the  young  man,  with  one 
of  his  winning  smiles.  "Now,  what  is  it  you  have 
done?"  Already  his  eyes  had  picked  out  Dixon 
returning,  not  quite  so  impetuously,  along  the  trail. 

"I  told  him  about  the  man  in  Phyllis'  room." 

Larrabie's  eyes  narrowed  and  grew  steely. 
"Yes?" 

"I  told  him — I  don't  know  why,  but  I  never  could 
keep  a  secret.  I  made  him  promise  not  to  tell.  But 
he  is  going  to  tell  the  boys.  There  he  comes  now. 
And  I  told  Phyllis  I  wouldn't  tell!"  Anna  began 
to  cry,  miserably  aware  that  she  had  made  a  mess 
of  things. 

"I  just  begged  him  not  to  tell — and  he  had  prom 
ised.  But  he  says  it's  his  duty,  and  he's  going  to  do 
it.  Oh,  Mr.  Keller — if  Mr.  Weaver  is  there  they 
will  hurt  him,  and  I'll  be  to  blame." 

"Yes,  you  will  be,"  he  told  her  bluntly.  "But  we 
may  save  him  yet — if  you  can  go  about  your  busi 
ness  and  keep  your  mouth  shut." 

"Oh,  I  will— I  will,"  she  promised  eagerly.  "HJ 
not  say  a  word — not  to  anybody." 


N 

MAVERICKS 


"See  that  you  don't.  Now,  run  along-  home. 
I'm  going  to  have  a  quiet  little  talk  with  that  young 
man.  Maybe  I  can  persuade  him  to  change  his 
mind,"  he  said  grimly. 

"Please — if  you  could.  I  don't  want  to  start  any 
j  trouble."  c 

Larrabie  grinned,  without  taking  his  eyes  from 
the  man  coming  down  the  trail.  It  was  usually 
some  good-natured  idiot,  with  a  predisposition  to 
gabbling1,  that  made  most  of  the  trouble  in  the 
world. 

"Well,  you  be  a  good  girl  and  padlock  your 
tongue.  If  you  do,  I'll  fix  it  up  with  Tom,"  he 
promised. 

He  sauntered  forward  toward  the  path.  Dixon, 
full  of  his  news,  was  hurrying  to  the  ranch.  He 
was  eager  to  tell  it  to  the  Sandersons,  because  he 
wanted  to  reinstate  himself  in  their  good  graces. 
For,  though  neither  of  them  knew  he  had  fired  the 
shot  that  wounded  Weaver,  he  had  observed  a  dis 
tinct  coolness  toward  him  for  his  desertion  of 
Phyllis  in  her  time  of  need.  It  had  been  all  very 
well  for  him  to  explain  that  he  had  thought  it  best 
to  hurry  home  to  get  help.  The  fact  remained  that 
he  had  run  away  and  left  her  alone. 

Now  he  was  for  pushing  past  Keller  with  a  curt 
nod,  but  the  latter  stopped  him  with  a  lift  of  the 
hand. 

"What's  your  sweat?" 

"Want  to  see  me,  do  you  ?" 


MAVERICKS  173 


Keller  nodded  easily. 

"All  right.  Unload  your  mind.  I  can't  give 
you  but  a  minute." 

"Press  of  business  on  to-day?" 

"It's  my  business." 

"I'm  going  to  make  it  mine." 

"What  do  you  mean  ?"  came  the  quick,  suspicious 
retort 

"Let's  walk  back  up  the  trail  and  talk  it  over." 

"No." 

"Yes." 

Their  eyes  clashed,  and  those  of  the  stronger 
man  won. 

"We  can  talk  it  over  here,"  Dixon  said  sullenly. 

"We  can,  but  we  won't." 

"I  don't  know  as  I  want  to  go  back  up  the  trail." 

"Come."  Larrabie  let  a  hand  fall  on  the  shoul 
der  of  the  other  man —  a  brown,  strong  hand  that 
showed  no  more  uncertainty  than  the  steady  eyes. 

Dixon  cursed  peevishly,  but  after  a  moment  he 
turned  to  go  back.  He  did  not  know  why  he  went, 
except  that  there  was  something  compelling  about 
this  man.  Besides,  he  told  himself,  his  news  would 
keep  for  half  an  hour  without  spoiling.  They 
walked  nearly  a  quarter  of  a  mile  before  he  stopped. 

"Now  get  busy,  Mr.  Keller.  I've  got  no  time  to 
monkey,"  he  stormed,  attempting  to  regain  what 
he  had  lost  by  his  concession. 

"Sho!  You've  got  all  day.  This  rush  notion 
is  the  great  failing  of  the  American  people.  We 


174  MAVERICKS 


hadn't  ought  to  go  through  life  on  the  lope — no, 
sir !  We  need  to  take  the  rest  cure  for  that  habit," 
Larrabie  mused  aloud,  seating  himself  on  a  flat 
boulder  between  Tom  and  the  ranch. 

Dixon  let  out  an  oath.  "Did  you  bring  me  here 
to  tell  me  that  durn  foolishness?" 

"Not  only  to  tell  you.  I  figured  we  would  try 
out  the  rest  cure,  you  and  me.  We'll  get  close  to 
nature  out  here  in  the  sunshine,  and  not  do  a  thing 
but  rest  till  the  cows  come  home,"  Keller  explained 
easily.  His  voice  was  indolent,  his  manner  ami 
able;  but  there  was  a  wariness  in  his  eyes  that 
showed  him  prepared  for  any  move. 

So  it  happened  that  when  Dixon  made  the  ex 
pected  dash  into  the  chaparral  Keller  nailed  him  in  a 
dozen  strides. 

"Let  me  alone!  Let  me  go!"  cried  Torn  furi 
ously.  "You've  got  no  business  to  keep  me 
here." 

"I'm  doing  it  for  pleasure,  say." 

The  other  tried  to  break  away,  but  Larrabie  had 
caught  his  arm  and  twisted  it  in  such  a  way  that  he 
could  not  move  without  great  pain.  Impotently 
he  writhed  and  cursed.  Meanwhile  his  captor  re 
lieved  him  of  his  revolver,  and,  with  a  sudden  turn, 
dropped  him  to  the  ground  and  stepped  back. 

"What's  eating  you,  Keller?  Have  you  gone 
plumb  crazy?  Gimme  back  that  gun  and  let  me 
go,"  the  young  fellow  screamed. 

"You  don't  need  the  gun  right  now.     Maybe,  if 


MAVERICKS  175 


you  had  it,  you  might  take  a  notion  to  plug  me  the 
way  you  did  Buck  Weaver." 

"What — what's  that?"  Then,  in  angry  suspi 
cion:  "I  suppose  Phyllis  told  you  that  lie." 

He  had  not  finished  speaking  before  he  regretted 
it.  The  look  in  the  face  of  the  other  told  him  that 
he  had  gone  too  far  and  would  have  to  pay  for  it. 

"Stand  up,  Tom  Dixon!  You've  got  to  take  a 
thrashing  for  that.  There's  been  one  coming  to 
you  ever  since  you  ran  away  and  left  a  girl  to  stand 
the  gaff  for  you.  Now  it's  due." 

"I  don't  want  to  fight,"  Tom  whined.  "I  reckon 
I  oughtn't  to  have  said  that,  but  you  drove  me  to  it. 
I'll  apologize " 

"You'll  apologize  after  your  thrashing,  not  be 
fore.  Stand  up  and  take  it." 

Dixon  got  to  his  feet  very  reluctantly.  He  was  a 
larger  man  than  his  opponent  by  twenty  pounds — a 
husky,  well-built  fellow;  but  he  was  entirely  with 
out  the  fighting  edge.  He  knew  himself  already  a 
beaten  man,  and  he  cowered  in  spirit  before  his 
lithe  antagonist,  even  while  he  took  off  his  coat  and 
squared  himself  for  the  attack.  For  he  knew,  as 
did  anybody  who  looked  at  him  carefully,  that  Kel- 
ter  was  a  game  man  from  the  marrow  out. 

Men  who  knew  him  said  of  Larrabie  Keller  that 
he  could  whip  his  weight  in  wild  cats.  Get  him 
started,  and  he  was  a  small  cyclone  in  action.  But 
now  he  went  at  his  man  deliberately,  with  hard, 
straight,  punishing  blows. 


MAVERICKS 


Dixon  fought  back  wildly,  desperately,  but  could 
not  land.  He  could  see  nothing  but  that  face  with 
the  chilled-steel  eyes,  but  when  he  lashed  out  it 
was  never  there.  Again  and  again,  through  the 
openings  he  left,  came  a  right  or  a  left  like  a 
pile  driver,  with  the  weight  of  one  hundred  and 
sixty  pounds  of  muscle  and  bone  back  of  it.  He 
tried  to  clinch,  and  was  shaken  off  by  body  blows. 
At  last  he  went  down  from  an  uppercut,  and  stayed 
down,  breathing  heavily,  a  badly  thrashed  man. 

"For  God's  sake,  let  me  alone!  I've  had 
enough,"  he  groaned. 

"Sure  of  that?" 

"You've  pretty  near  killed  me." 

Larrabie  laughed  grimly.  "You  didn't  get  half 
enough.  I'll  listen  to  that  apology  now,  my 
friend." 

With  many  sighs,  the  prostrate  man  came  through 
with  it  haltingly.  "I  didn't  mean — I  hadn't  ought 
to  have  said " 

Keller  interrupted  the  tearful  voice.  "That'll  be 
enough.  You  will  know  better,  next  time,  how  to 
speak  respectfully  of  a  lady.  While  we're  on  the 
subject,  I  don't  mind  telling  you  that  nobody  told 
me.  I'm  not  a  fool,  and  I  put  two  and  two  to 
gether.  That's  all.  I'm  not  her  brother.  It  wasn't 
my  business  to  punish  you  because  you  played  the 
coyote.  But  when  you  said  she  lied  to  me,  that's 
another  matter." 

For  very  shame,  trampled  in  the  dust  as  he  had 


MAVERICKS  177 


been,  Tom  could  not  leave  the  subject  alone.  Be 
sides,  he  had  to  make  sure  that  the  story  would  be 
kept  secret. 

"The  way  of  it  was  like  this :  After  I  shot  Buck 
Weaver,  we  saw  they  would  kill  me  if  I  was  caught ; 
so  we  figured  I  had  better  hunt  cover.  'Course  I 
knew  they  wouldn't  hurt  a  girl  any,"  he  got  out 
sullenly. 

"You  don't  have  to  explain  it  to  me,"  answered 
the  other  coldly. 

"You  ain't  expecting  to  tell  the  boys  about  me 
shooting  Buck,  are  you?"  Dixon  asked  presently, 
hating  himself  for  it.  But  he  was  afraid  of  Phil 
and  his  father.  They  had  told  him  plainly  what 
they  thought  of  him  for  leaving  the  girl  in  the 
lurch.  If  they  should  discover  that  he  had  done 
the  shooting  and  left  her  to  stand  the  blame  for  it, 
they  would  do  more  than  talk. 

"I  certainly  ought  to  tell  them.  Likely  they  may 
want  to  see  you  about  it,  and  hear  the  particu 
lars." 

"There  ain't  any  need  of  them   knowing.      If 
Phyl  had  wanted  them  to  know,  she  could  have  told 
them,"  said  Tom  sulkily.     He  had  got  carefully  to 
his  feet,  and  was  nursing  his  face  with  a  handker-  \ 
chief. 

"We'll  go  and  break  our  news  together,"  sug 
gested  the  other  cheerfully.  "You  tell  them  you 
think  Weaver  is  in  her  room,  and  I'll  tell  them  my 
little  spiel  ' 


178  MAVERICKS 


"There's  no  need  telling  them  about  me  shooting 
Weaver,  far  as  I  can  see.  I'd  rather  they  didn't 
know." 

"For  that  matter,  there's  no  need  telling  them 
your  notions  about  where  Buck  is  right  now." 

Tom  said  nothing,,  but  his  dogged  look  told  Lar- 
rabie  that  he  was  not  persuaded. 

"I  tell  you  what  we'll  do,"  said  Keller,  then: 
"We'll  unload  on  them  both  stories,  or  we  won't 
tell  them  either.  Which  shall  it  be?" 

Dixon  understood  that  an  ultimatum  was  being 
served  on  him.  For,  though  his  former  foe  was 
smiling,  the  smile  was  a  frosty  one. 

"Just  as  you  say.  I  reckon  it's  your  call,"  he  ac 
quiesced  sourly. 

"No — I'm  going  to  leave  it  to  you,"  grinned 
Larrabie. 

The  man  he  had  thrashed  looked  as  if  he  would 
like  to  kill  him.  "We'll  close-herd  both  stories, 
then." 

"Good  enough!  Don't  let  me  keep  you  any 
longer,  if  you're  in  a  hurry.  Now  we've  had  our 
little  talk,  I'm  satisfied." 

But  Dixon  was  not  satisfied.  He  was  stiff  and 
sore  physically,  but  mentally  he  was  worse.  He  had 
played  a  poor  part,  and  must  still  do  so.  If  he 
went  down  to  the  ranch  with  his  face  in  that  con 
dition,  he  could  not  hope  to  escape  observation. 
His  vanity  cried  aloud  against  submitting  to  the 
comment  to  which  he  would  be  subjected.  The 


MAVERICKS  179 


whole  story  of  the  thrashing  would  be  bound  to 
come  out. 

"I  can't  go  down  looking  like  this,"  he  growled. 

"Do  you  have  to  go  down?" 

"Have  to  get  my  horse,  don't  I  ?" 

"I'll  bring  it  to  you."  , 

"And  say  nothing  about — what  has  happened  ?" 

"I  don't  care  to  talk  of  it  any  more  than  you 
do.  I'll  be  a  clam." 

"All  right — I'll  wait  here."  Tom  sat  down  on 
a  boulder  and  chewed  tobacco,  his  head  sunk  in  his 
clenched  palms. 

Keller  walked  down  the  trail  to  the  ranch.  He 
was  glad  to  go  in  place  of  Dixon;  for  he  felt  that 
the  young  man  was  unstable  and  could  not  be  de 
pended  upon  not  to  fall  into  a  rage,  and,  in  a  pas 
sionate  impulse,  tell  all  he  knew.  He  saddled  the 
horse,  explaining  casually  to  the  wrangler  that  he 
had  lost  a  bet  with  Tom,  by  the  terms  of  which  he 
had  to  come  down  and  saddle  the  latter's  mount. 

He  swung  to  the  back  of  the  pony  and  cantered 
up  the  trail.  But  before  he  had  gone  a  hundred 
yards,  he  was  off  again,  examining  the  hoofmarks 
the  animal  left  in  the  sand.  The  left  hind  mark 
differed  from  the  others  in  that  the  detail  was 
blurred  and  showed  nothing  but  a  single  flat  stamp. 

This  seemed  to  interest  Keller  greatly.  He  picked 
up  the  corresponding  foot  of  the  cow  pony,  and 
found  the  cause  of  the  irregularity  to  be  a  deform 
ity  or  swelling  in  the  ball  of  the  foot,  which  appar- 


180  MAVERICKS 


ently  was  now  its  normal  condition.  The  young 
man  whistled  softly  to  himself,  swung  again  to  the 
saddle,  and  continued  on  his  way. 

The  owner  of  the  horse  had  his  back  turned  and 
did  not  hear  him  coming  as  he  padded  up  the  soft 
trail.  The  man  was  testing  in  his  hand  something 
that  clicked. 

Larrabie  swung  quietly  to  the  ground,  and 
waited.  His  eyes  were  like  tempered  steel. 

"Here's  your  horse,"  he  said.  Before  the  other 
man  moved,  he  drawled:  "I  reckon  I'd  better  tell 
you  I'm  armed,  too.  Don't  be  hasty." 

Dixon  turned  his  swollen  face  to  him  in  a  child 
ish  fury.  He  had  picked  up,  and  was  holding  in  his 
hand,  the  revolver  Larrabie  had  taken  from  him 
and  later  thrown  down.  "Damn  you,  what  do 
you  mean?  It's  my  own  gun,  ain't  it?  Mean  to 
say  I'm  a  murderer?" 

"I  happen  to  know  you  have  impulses  that  way. 
I  thought  I'd  check  this  one,  to  save  you  trouble." 

He  was  standing  carelessly  with  his  right  hand 
resting  on  the  mane  of  the  pony;  he  had  not  even 
taken  the  precaution  of  lowering  it  to  his  side, 
where  the  weapon  might  be  supposed  to  lie. 

For  an  instant  Tom  thought  of  taking  a  chance. 
The  odds  would  be  with  him,  since  he  had  the  re 
volver  ready  to  his  fingers.  But  before  that  indom 
itable  ease  his  courage  ebbed.  He  had  not  the 
stark  fighting  nerve  to  pit  himself  against  such  a 
man  as  this. 


MAVERICKS  181 


"I  don't  know  as  I  said  anything  about  shooting. 
Looks  like  you're  trying  to  fasten  another  row  on 
me,"  the  craven  said  bitterly. 

"I'm  content  if  you  are;  and  as  far  as  I'm  con 
cerned,  this  thing  is  between  us  two.  It  won't  go 
any  further." 

Keller  stood  aside  and  watched  Dixon  mount. 
The  hillman  took  his  spleen  out  on  the  horse,  find 
ing  that  the  safest  vent  for  his  anger.  He  jerked 
its  head  angrily,  cursed  it,  and  drove  in  the  spurs 
cruelly.  With  a  leap,  the  cow  pony  was  off.  In 
fifty  strides  it  reached  the  top  of  the  hill  and  dis 
appeared. 

Keller  laughed  grimly,  and  spoke  aloud  to  him 
self,  after  the  manner  of  one  who  lives  much  alone. 

"There's  a  nice  young  man — yellow  clear 
through.  Queer  thing  she  could  ever  have  fancied 
him.  But  I  don't  know,  either.  He's  a  right  good 
looker,  and  has  lots  of  cheek ;  that  goes  a  long  way 
with  girls.  Likely  he  was  mighty  careful  before 
her.  And  he'd  not  been  brought  up  against  the 
acid  test,  then." 

His  roving  eyes  took  in  with  disgust  the  stains  of 
tobacco  juice  plastered  all  over  the  clean  surface  of 
the  rocks. 

"I'll  bet  a  doughnut  she  never  knew  he  chewed. 
Didn't  know  it  myself  till  now.  Well,  a  man  lives 
and  learns.  Buck  Weaver  told  me  he  came  on  a 
dead  cow  of  his  just  after  the  rustlers  had  left.  Fire 
still  smoldering.  Tobacco  stains  still  wet  on  the 


182  MAVERICKS 


rocks.  And  one  of  the  horses  had  a  hind  hoof 
that  left  a  blurred  trail.  Surely  looks  like  Mr.  Tom 
Dixon  is  headed  for  the  pen  mighty  fast." 

He  turned  and  strolled  back  to  the  house,  smiling 
to  himself. 


CHAPTER   XIV 

A  DIFFERENCE  OF  OPINION 

Breakfast  finished,  Weaver  cast  about  for  some 
diversion  to  help  him  pass  the  time. 

This  room,  alone  of  those  he  had  seen  in  the 
house,  seemed  to  reflect  something  of  the  teacher's 
dainty  personality.  There  were  some  framed  prints 
on  the  walls — cheap,  but,  on  the  whole,  well  se 
lected.  The  rugs  were  in  subdued  brown  tints  that 
matched  well  the  pretty  wall  paper.  To  the  cattle 
man,  it  was  pathetic  that  the  girl  had  done  so  much 
with  such  frugal  means  to  her  hand.  For  plainly 
her  meagre  efforts  were  circumscribed  by  the  purse 
limitation. 

Ranging  over  the  few  books  in  the  stand,  he  se 
lected  a  volume  of  verse  by  Markham,  and,  turning 
the  leaves  aimlessly,  chanced  on  "A  Satyr  Song."  < 

I  know  by  the  stir  of  the  branches 

The  way  she  went; 
And  at  times  I  can  see  where  a  stem 

Of  the  grass  is  bent. 
She's  the  secret  and  light  of  my  life; 

She  allures  to  elude; 
But  I  follow  the  spell  of  her  beauty* 

Whatever  the  mood. 

183 


184  MAVERICKS 


"Knows  what  he's  talking  about — some  poet, 
that  fellow,"  Buck  cried  aloud  to  himself,  for  it 
seemed  to  him  that  the  Calif ornian  had  put  into 
words  his  own  feeling.  He  read  on  avidly,  from 
one  poem  to  another,  lost  in  his  discovery. 

It  was  perhaps  an  hour  later  that  he  came  back 
to  a  realization  of  a  gnawing  desire.  He  wanted  a 
pipe,  and  the  need  was  an  insistent  one.  It  was  of 
no  use  to  argue  with  himself.  He  surely  had  to 
have  one  smoke.  Longingly  he  fingered  his  pipe, 
filled  it  casually  with  the  loose  tobacco  in  his  coat 
pocket,  and  balanced  the  pros  and  cons  in  his  mind. 
From  behind  the  window  curtain  he  examined  the 
plaza. 

"Not  a  soul  in  sight.  Don't  believe  there's  a 
man  about  the  place.  No  risk  at  all,  looks  to  me." 

With  that,  he  swept  the  match  to  a  flame,  and 
lit  the  pipe.  He  sat  close  to  the  open  window,  so 
that  the  smoke  could  drift  out  without  his  being 
seen. 

The  experiment  brought  no  disaster.  He  fin 
ished  his  smoke  undisturbed,  and  went  back  to  read 
ing. 

The  hours  dragged  slowly  past.  Noon  came  and 
went;  mid-afternoon  was  upon  him.  His  watch 
showed  a  few  minutes  past  four  when  he  decided 
on  another  smoke.  From  the  corner  of  his  pocket 
he  raked  the  loose  tobacco  into  the  bowl  of  his  pipe, 
and  pressed  it  down.  Presently  he  was  again  puff 
ing  in  pleasant  serenity. 


MAVERICKS  185 


Suddenly  there  came  a  blinding  flash  and  a  roar. 

Buck  started  to  his  feet  in  amazement,  the  stem 
of  the  pipe  still  in  his  mouth,  the  bowl  shattered 
into  a  hundred  bits.  His  first  thought  was  that  he 
had  been  the  target  for  a  sharpshooter.  There  was 
a  neat  hole  through  the  framework  of  the  window 
case,  showing  where  the  bullet  had  plowed.  But  an 
investigation  left  him  in  the  air;  for  the  direction 
of  the  bullet  hole  was  such  that,  if  anybody  from 
outside  had  fired  it,  he  must  have  been  up  in  a 
balloon. 

The  explanation  came  to  him  like  a  flash.  In 
raking  the  tobacco  into  his  pipe  with  his  fingers, 
he  must  have  pressed  into  the  bowl  a  stray  cartridge 
left  some  time  in  the  pocket.  This  had  gone  off 
after  the  heat  had  reached  the  powder. 

By  the  time  he  had  reached  this  conclusion  some 
one  came  running  along  the  passage  and  tried  the 
locked  door.  After  some  rattling  at  the  knob,  the 
footsteps  retreated.  Buck  could  hear  excited  voices. 

"Coming  back  in  force,  I'll  bet,"  he  told  himself, 
with  a  dubious  grin. 

The  fat  was  surely  in  the  fire  now. 

Footsteps  made  themselves  heard  again,  this 
ftime  in  numbers.  The  door  was  tried  cautiously. 
A  voice  demanded  admittance  sharply. 

Buck  opened  the  door  and  gazed  at  the  intruders 
in  mild  surprise.  Old  Sanderson  and  Phil  were 
there,  together  with  Slim  and  a  cow-puncher  known 
as  Cuffs.  All  of  them  were  anned. 


186  MAVERICKS 


"Want  to  come  in,  gentlemen?"  Weaver  asked. 

"So  you're  here,  are  you?"  spoke  up  Phil. 

"  That's  right.    I'm  here,  sure  enough." 

"How  long  you  been  here  ?" 

"Been  hanging  round  the  place  ever  since  my 
escape.  You  kept  so  close  a  watch  I  couldn't  make 
my  getaway.  Some  time  the  other  side  of  noon  I 
drifted  in  here,  figuring  some  of  you  would  drive 
me  from  cover  by  accident  during  the  day  if  I 
stayed  out  in  the  chaparral.  This  room  looked 
handy,  so  I  made  myself  right  at  home  and  locked 
the  door.  I  hate  to  shoot  up  a  lady's  boudoir,  but 
looks  like  that's  what  I've  done." 

"You  durn  fool!  Who  were  you  shooting  at?" 
Phil  asked  contemptuously. 

But  his  father  stepped  forward,  and  with  a  cer 
tain  austere  dignity,  more  menacing  than  threats, 
took  the  words  out  of  the  mouth  of  his  son. 

"I  think  I'll  negotiate  this,  Phil." 

Buck  explained  the  accident  amiably,  and  re 
lieved  himself  of  the  imputation  of  idiocy.  "Serves 
a  man  right  for  smoking  without  permission  in  a 
lady's  room,"  he  admitted  humorously. 

A  man  came  up  the  stairway  two  steps  at  a  time, 
panting  as  if  he  had  been  running.  It  was  Keller. 

That  the  cattleman  must  have  been  discovered, 
he  knew  even  before  he  saw  him  grinning  round 
on  a  circle  of  armed  foes.  Weaver  nodded  recog 
nition,  and  Larrabie  understood  it  to  mean  also 
thanks  for  what  he  had  done  for  him  last  night. 


MAVERICKS  187 


"We'll  talk  this  over  downstairs,"  old  Sanderson 
announced  grimly. 

They  went  down  into  the  big  hall  with  the  open 
fireplace,  and  the  old  sheepman  waved  his  hand 
toward  a  chair. 

"Thanks.  Think  I'll  take  it  standing,"  said  Buck, 
an  elbow  on  the  mantel. 

He  understood  fully  his  precarious  situation;  he 
knew  that  these  men  had  already  condemned  him 
to  death.  The  quiet  repression  they  imposed  on 
themselves  told  him  as  much.  But  his  gaze  passed 
calmly  from  one  to  another,  without  the  least 
shrinking.  All  of  them  save  Keller  and  Phil  were 
unusually  tall  men — as  tall,  almost,  as  he;  but  in 
breadth  of  shoulder  and  depth  of  chest  he  dwarfed 
them.  They  were  grim,  hard  men,  but  not  one  so 
grim  and  iron  as  he  when  he  chose. 

"Your  life  is  forfeit,  Buck  Weaver,"  Sanderson 
said,  without  delay. 

"Made  up  your  mind,  have  you?" 

"Your  own  riders  made  it  up  for  us  when  they 
murdered  poor  Jesus  Menendez." 

"A  bad  break,  that — and  me  a  prisoner  here. 
Some  of  the  boys  had  been  out  on  the  range  a  week. 
I  reckon  they  didn't  know  I  was  the  rat  in  your 
trap." 

•"So  much  the  worse  for  you." 

"Looks  like,"  Weaver  nodded.  Then  he  added, 
almost  carelessly:  "I  expect  there  wouldn't  be  any 


188  MAVERICKS 


use  mentioning  the  law  to  you?  It's  here  to  pun 
ish  the  man  that  shot  Menendez." 

"Not  a  bit  of  use.  You  own  the  sheriff  and  half 
the  juries  in  this  county.  Besides,  we've  got  the 
man  right  here  that  is  responsible  for  the  killing  of 
poor  Jesus." 

"Oh!    If  you  look  at  it  that  way,  of  course -" 

"That's  the  way  to  look  at  it.  I  don't  blame  your 
riders  any  more  than  I  blame  the  guns  they  fired. 
You  did  that  killing." 

"Even  though  I  was  locked  up  on  your  ranch, 
more  than  twenty  miles  away." 

"That  makes  no  difference." 

"Seems  to  me  it  makes  some,"  suggested  Keller, 
speaking  for  the  first  time.  "His  riders  may  have 
acted  contrary  to  orders.  He  surely  did  not  give 
any  specific  orders  in  this  case." 

"His  actions  for  months  past  have  been  orders 
enough,"  said  Cuffs. 

"You'd  better  investigate  before  you  take  action," 
Larrabie  urged. 

"We've  done  all  the  investigating  we're  going  to 
do.  This  man  has  set  himself  up  like  a  czar.  I'm 
not  going  through  the  list  of  it  all,  but  he  has 
more  than  reached  the  limit  months  ago.  He's 
passed  it  now.  He's  got  to  die,  by  gum,"  the  old 
sheepman  said,  his  eyes  like  frozen  stars. 

"We  all  have  to  do  that.  Just  when  does  my 
time  come?"  Weaver  asked. 

"Now,"  cried  Sanderson,  with  a  bitter  oath. 


MAVERICKS  189 


Phil  swallowed  hard.  He  had  grown  white  be 
neath  the  tan.  The  thing  they  were  about  to  do 
seemed  awful  to  him. 

"Good  God!  You're  not  going  to  murder  him, 
are  you?"  protested  Larrabie. 

"He  murdered  poor  Jesus  Menendez,  didn't  he  ?" 

"You  mean  you're  going  to  shoot  him  down  in 
cold  blood?" 

"What's  the  matter  with  hanging?"  Slim  asked 
brutally. 

"No,"  spoke  up  Keller  quickly. 

The  old  man  nodded  agreement  "No — they 
didn't  hang  Menendez." 

"Your  sheep  herder  died — if  he  died  at  all,  and 
we  have  no  proof  of  it — with  a  gun  in  his  hands," 
Larrabie  said. 

"That's  right,"  admitted  Phil  quickly.  "That's 
right.  We  got  to  give  him  a  chance." 

"What  sort  of  a  chance  would  you  like  to  give 
him?"  Sanderson  asked  of  the  boy. 

"Let  him  fight  for  his  life.  Give  him  a  gun,  and 
me  one.  We'll  settle  this  for  good  and  all." 

The  eyes  of  the  old  Confederate  gleamed,  though 
Ihe  negatived  the  idea  promptly. 

"That  wouldn't  be  a  square  deal,  Phil.  He's  our 
prisoner,  and  he  has  killed  one  of  our  men.  K 
wouldn't  be  right  for  one  of  us  to  meet  him  on 
even  terms." 

"Give  me  a  gun,  and  I'll  meet  all  of  you !"  cried 
Weaver,  eyes  gleaming. 


190  MAVERICKS 


"By  God,  you're  on!  That's  a  sporting  prop 
osition,"  Sanderson  retorted  promptly.  "Lets  us 
out,  too.  I  don't  fancy  killing  in  cold  blood,  my 
self.  Of  course  we'll  get  you,  but  you'll  have  a  run 
for  your  money  first,  by  gum." 

"Maybe  you'll  get  me,  and  maybe  you  won't.  Is 
this  little  vendetta  to  be  settled  with  revolvers,  or 
rifles?" 

"Make  it  rifles,"  Phil  suggested  quickly. 

There  was  always  a  chance  that,  if  the  battle 
were  fought  at  long  range,  the  cattleman  might 
reach  the  hill  canons  in  safety. 

Keller  was  helpless.  He  lived  in  a  man's  world, 
•where  each  one  fought  for  his  own  head  and  took 
his  own  fighting  chance.  Weaver  had  proposed  an 
adjustment  of  the  difficulty,  and  his  enemies  had  ac 
cepted  his  offer.  Even  if  the  Sandersons  would 
have  tolerated  further  interference,  the  cattleman 
would  not. 

Moreover  Keller's  hands  were  tied  as  to  taking 
sides.  He  could  not  fight  by  the  side  of  the  owner 
of  the  Twin  Star  Ranch  against  the  father  and 
brother  of  Phyllis.  There  was  only  one  thing  to 
do,  and  that  offered  little  hope.  He  slipped  quietly 
from  the  room  and  from  the  house,  swung  to  the. 
back  of  a  horse  he  found  saddled  in  the  place  and 
galloped  wildly  down  the  road  toward  the  school- 
house. 

Phyllis  tiad  much  influence  over  her  father.     If 


MAVERICKS  191 


she  could  reach  the  scene  in  time,  she  might  pre 
vent  the  duel. 

His  pony  went  up  and  down  the  hills  as  in  a 
moving-picture  play. 

Meanwhile  terms  of  battle  were  arranged  at 
once,  without  haggling  on  either  side.  Weaver  was 
to  have  a  repeating  Winchester  and  a  belt  full  of 
cartridges,  the  others  such  weapons  as  they  chose. 
The  duel  was  to  start  with  two  hundred  and  fifty 
yards  separating  the  combatants,  but  this  distance 
could  be  increased  or  diminished  at  will.  Such  cover 
as  was  to  be  found  might  be  used. 

"Whatever's  right  suits  me,"  the  cattleman  said. 
"I  can't  say  more  than  that  you  are  doing  hand 
somely  by  me.  I  reckon  I'll  make  that  declaration 
to  some  of  your  help,  if  you  don't  mind." 

The  horse  wrangler  and  the  Mexican  waiter  were 
sent  for,  and  to  them  the  owner  of  the  place  ex 
plained  what  was  about  to  occur.  Their  eyes  stuck 
out,  and  their  chins  dropped,  but  neither  of  the  two 
had  anything  to  say. 

"We're  telling  you  boys  so  you  may  know  it's  all 
right.  I  proposed  this  thing.  If  I'm  shot,  nobody 
is  to  blame  but  myself.  Understand?"  Weaver 
drove  the  idea  home. 

The  wrangler  got  out  an  automatic  "Sure,"  and 
Manuel  an  amazed  "Si,  senor"  upon  which  they 
were  promptly  retired  from  the  scene. 

Having  prepared  and  tested  their  weapons,  the 
parties  to  the  difficulty  repaired  to  the  pasture. 


MAVERICKS 


"I'd  like  to  try  out  this  gun,  if  you  don't  mind. 
It's  a  new  proposition  to  me,"  the  cattleman  said. 

"Go  to  it,"  nodded  Slim,  seating  himself  tailor- 
fashion  on  the  ground  and  rolling  a  cigarette.  He 
was  a  black,  bilious-tempered  fellow,  but  this  par 
ticular  kind  of  gameness  appealed  to  him. 

Weaver  glanced  around,  threw  the  rifle  to  his 
shoolder,  and  fired  immediately.  A  chicken,  one 
hundred  and  fifty  yards  away,  fell  over. 

"Accidents  will  happen,"  suggested  Slim. 

"That  accident  happened  through  the  neck,  you'll 
find,"  Weaver  retorted  calmly. 

"Betcher." 

Buck  dropped  another  rooster. 

"You  ain't  happy  unless  you're  killing  something 
of  ours,"  Slim  grinned.  "Well,  if  you're  satisfied 
with  your  gun,  we'll  go  ahead  and  see  how  good 
you  are  on  humans." 

They  measured  the  distance,  and  Sanderson 
called:  "Are  you  ready?" 

"I  reckon,"  came  back  the  answer. 

The  father  gave  the  signal — the  explosion  of  a 
revolver.  Even  as  it  flashed,  Buck  doubled  up  like 
a  jack  rabbit  and  leaped  for  the  shelter  of  a  live 
oak,  some  thirty  yards  distant.  Four  rifles  spoke 
almost  at  the  same  instant,  so  that  between  the  first 
and  the  last  not  a  second  intervened.  One  of 
them  cracked  a  second  time.  But  the  runner  did 
not  stop  until  he  reached  the  tree  and  dropped  be 
hind  its  spreading  roots. 


MAVERICKS  193 


"Hunt  cover,  boysp  the  father  gave  orders. 
"Don't  any  of  you  expose  yourself.  We'll  have  to 
outflank  him,  but  we'll  take  our  time  about  it." 

He  got  this  out  in  staccato  jerks,  the  last  part  of 
it  not  until  all  were  for  the  moment  safe.  The 
strange  thing  was  that  Weaver  had  not  fired  once 
as  they  scurried  for  shelter,  even  though  Phil's  foot 
had  caught  in  a  root  and  held  him  prisoner  for  an 
instant  while  he  freed  it.  But  as  they  began  cir 
cling  round  him  carefully,  he  fired — first  at  one  of 
them  and  then  at  another.  His  shooting  was  close, 
but  not  one  of  them  was  hit.  Recalling  the  incident 
of  the  chickens,  this  seemed  odd.  In  Slim's  phras 
ing,  he  did  not  seem  to  be  so  good  on  "humans." 

Behind  his  live  oak,  Buck  was  so  well  protected 
that  only  a  chance  shot  could  reach  him  before  his 
enemies  should  outflank  him.  How  long  that  would 
have  taken  nobody  ever  found  out ;  for  an  interven 
tion  occurred  in  the  form  of  a  flying  Diana,  on 
horseback,  taking  the  low  fence  like  a  huntress. 

It  was  Phyllis,  hatless,  her  hair  flying  loose — a 
picture  long  to  be  remembered.  Straight  as  an  ar 
row  she  rode  for  Weaver,  flung  herself  from  the 
saddle,  and  ran  forward  to  him,  waving  her 
handkerchief  as  a  signal  to  her  people  to  cease 
firing. 

"Thank  God,  I'm  in  time!"  she  cried,  her  voice 
deep  with  feeling.  Then,  womanlike,  she  leaned 
against  the  tree,  and  gave  way  to  the  emotion  that 
had  been  pent  within  her. 


194  MAVERICKS 


Buck  patted  her  shoulders  with  awkward  tender 
ness. 

"Don't  you !    Don't  you !"  he  implored. 

Her  collapse  lasted  only  a  short  time.  She  dried 
her  tears,  and  stilled  her  sobs.  "I  must  see  my 
father,"  she  said. 

The  old  man  was  already  hurrying  forward,  and 
as  he  ran  he  called  to  his  boys  not  to  shoot.  Phyl 
would  not  move  a  single  step  of  the  way  to  meet 
him,  lest  they  take  advantage  of  her  absence  to 
keep  up  the  firing. 

"How  under  heaven  did  you  get  here?"  Buck 
asked  her. 

"Mr.  Keller  came  to  meet  me.  I  took  his  horse, 
and  he  is  bringing  the  buggy.  I  heard  firing,  so  I 
cut  straight  across,"  she  explained. 

"You  shouldn't  have  come.  You  might  have  been 
hit." 

She  wrung  her  hands  in  distress.  "It's  terrible — 
terrible!  Why  will  you  do  such  things — you  and 
them?"  she  finished,  forgetting  the  careful  gram 
mar  that  becomes  a  schoolmarm. 

Buck  might  have  told  her — but  he  did  not — that 
he  had  carefully  avoided  hitting  any  of  her  people ; 
that  he  had  determined  not  to  do  so  even  if  he 
should  pay  for  his  forbearance  with  his  life.  What 
he  did  say  was  an  apologetic  explanation,  which  ex 
plained  nothing. 

"We  were  settling  a  difference  of  opinion  in  the 
old  Arizona  way,  Miss  Phyl" 


MAVERICKS  195 


"In  what  way?  By  murdering  my  father?"  she 
asked  sharply. 

"He's  covering  ground  right  lively  for  a  dead 
one,"  Buck  said  dryly. 

"I'm  speaking  of  your  intentions.  You  can't 
deny  you  would  have  done  it." 

"Anyhow,  I  haven't  denied  it." 

Sanderson,  almost  breathless,  reached  them, 
caught  the  girl  by  the  shoulders,  and  shook  her 
angrily. 

"What  do  you  mean  by  it  ?  What  are  you  doing 
here?  Goddlemighty,  girl!  Are  you  startc  mad?" 

"No,  but  I  think  all  you  people  are." 

"You'll  march  home  to  your  room,  and  stay  there 
till  I  come." 

"No,  father." 

"Yes,  I  say!" 

"I  must  see  you — alone." 

"You  can  see  me  afterward.  We'll  do  no  talking 
till  this  business  is  finished." 

"Why  do  you  talk  so?  It  won't  be  finished — 
it  can't,"  she  moaned. 

"We'll  attend  to  this  without  your  help,  my  girl." 

"You  don't  understand."  Her  voice  fell  to  the 
lowest  murmur.  "He  came  here  for  me." 

"For  you-all?" 

"Oh,  don't  you  see?  He  brought  me  back  here 
because  he — cared  for  me."  A  tide  of  shame 
flushed  her  cheeks.  Surely  no  girl  had  ever  been  so 
cruelly  circumstanced  that  she  must  tell  such  things 


196  MAVERICKS 


before  a  lover,  who  had  not  declared  himself  ex 
plicitly. 

"Cared  for  you?    As  a  wolf  does  for  a  lamb!" 

"At  first,  maybe — but  not  afterward.  Don't  you 
see  he  was  sorry?  Everything  shows  that." 

"And  to  show  that  he  was  sorry,  he  had  poor 
Jesus  Menendez  killed!" 

"No— he  didn't  know  about  that  till  I  told  him." 

"Till  you  told  him?" 

"Yes.     When  I  freed  him  and  took  him  to  my 


room." 


"So  you  freed  him — and  took  him  to  your 
room?"  She  had  never  heard  her  father  speak  in 
such  a  voice,  so  full  at  once  of  anger  and  incred 
ulous  horror. 

"Don't  look  at  me  like  that,  father!  Don't  you 

see — can't  you  see Oh,  why  are  you  so  cruel 

to  me  ?"  She  buried  her  face  in  her  forearm  against 
the  rock. 

Her  father  caught  her  arm  so  savagely  that  a 
spasm  of  pain  shot  through  her.  "None  of  that! 
Give  me  the  truth.  Now — this  instant!" 

Anger  at  his  injustice  welled  up  in  her.  "You've 
had  the  truth.  I  knew  of  the  attack  on  the  sheep 
camp — heard  of  it  on  the  way  home  from  school, 
from  Manuel.  Do  you  think  I've  lived  with  you 
eighteen  years  for  nothing?  I  knew  what  you 
would  do,  and  I  tried  to  save  you  from  yourself. 
There  was  no  place  where  he  would  be  safe  but  in 


MAVERICKS  197 


my  room.  I  took  him  there,  and  slept  with  Anna. 
I  did  right.  I  would  do  it  again." 

"Slept  with  Anna,  did  you?" 

She  felt  again  that  furious  tide  of  blood  sv/eep 
into  her  face.  "Yes.  From  the  time  of  the  shoot- 
ing." 

"Goddlemighty,  gyurl,  I  wisht  you'd  keep  out  of 
my  business." 

"And  let  you  do  murder?" 

"Why  did  you  save  him?  Because  you  love 
him?"  demanded  Sanderson  fiercely. 

"Because  I  love  you.  But  you're  too  blind  to  see 
it." 

"And  him — do  you  love  him?    Answer  me!" 

"No!"  she  flamed.  "But  if  I  did,  I  would  be 
loving  a  man.  He  wouldn't  take  odds  of  five  to 
one  against  an  enemy." 

Her  father's  great  black  eyes  chiselled  into  hers. 
"Are  you  lying  to  me,  girl?" 

Weaver  spoke  out  quietly.  "I  expect  /  can  an 
swer  that,  Mr.  Sanderson.  Your  daughter  has 
given  me  to  understand  that  I'm  about  as  mean  a 
thing  as  God  ever  made." 

But  Phyl  was  beyond  caution  now.  Her  resent 
ment  against  her  father,  for  that  he  had  forced  her 
to  drag  out  the  secret  things  of  her  heart  and  speak 
of  them  in  the  presence  of  the  man  concerned, 
boiled  into  words — quick,  eager,  full  of  passion. 

"I  take  it  all  back  then — every  word  of  it!"  she 


198  MAVERICKS 


cried.  "You  are  braver,  kinder,  more  generous  to 
me  than  my  own  people — more  chivalrous.  You 
would  have  gone  to  your  death  without  telling  them 
that  I  took  you  to  my  room.  But  my  own  father, 
who  has  known  me  all  my  life,  insults  me  grossly." 

"I  was  wrong,"  Sanderson  admitted  uneasily. 

Keller  climbed  the  pasture  fence,  and  came  run 
ning  up  at  the  same  time  as  Phil  and  Slim. 

"Menendez  is  alive!"  he  cried.  "He  is  at  the 
Twin  Star  Ranch.  The  boys  there  are  taking  care 
of  him,  and  the  doctor  says  he  will  pull  through." 

"Who  told  you?" 

"Bob  Tryon.  I  met  him  not  five  minutes  ago. 
He  is  on  his  way  here." 

This  put  a  new  face  on  things.  If  Menendez 
were  still  alive,  Weaver  could  be  held  to  await  de 
velopments.  Moreover,  since  the  sheep  herder  was 
a  prisoner  at  the  Twin  Star  Ranch,  retaliation 
would  follow  any  measures  taken  against  the  cat 
tleman. 

Phyllis  gave  a  glad  little  cry.  "Then  it's  all  right 
now." 

Weaver's    face    crinkled    to    a    leathery    grin. 

'Mighty  unfortunate — ain't  it,  boys?    Puts  a  kind 

3f  a  kink  in  our  plans  for  the  little  entertainment 

we  were  figuring  on  pulling  off.    But  maybe  you've 

a  notion  of  still  going  on  with  it." 

"If  we  don't,  it  won't  be  on  your  account,  seh,  I 
don't  reckon,"  Sanderson  answered  reluctantly. 

But  though  he  would  not  admit  it,  the  old  man 


MAVERICKS  199 


was  beginning  to  admire  this  big  fellow,  who  could 
afford  to  miss  his  enemies  on  purpose  even  in  the 
midst  of  a  deadly  duel.  He  was  coming  to  a  grudg 
ing  sense  of  quality  in  Weaver.  The  cattleman 
might  be  many  things  that  were  evil,  but  undeniably 
he  possessed  also  those  qualities  which  on  the  fron 
tier  count  for  more  than  civilized  virtues.  He  was' 
game  to  the  core.  And  he  knew  how  to  keep  his 
mouth  shut  at  the  right  time,  no  matter  what  it 
was  going  to  cost  him.  On  the  whole  Buck  Weaver 
would  stand  the  acid  test,  the  old  soldier  was  com 
ing  to  think.  And  because  he  did  not  want  to  be 
lieve  any  good  of  his  enemy,  old  Jim  Sanderson, 
when  he  was  alone  in  the  corral  with  the  horses  or 
on  a  hillside  driving  his  sheep,  would  shake  his 
gnarled  fist  impotently  and  swear  fluently  until  his 
surcharged  feelings  were  relieved. 


CHAPTER  XV. 

THE  BRAND  BLOTTER 

Two  riders  followed  the  trail  to  Yeager's  Spur — 
one  a  man,  brown  and  forceful;  the  other  a  girl, 
with  sunshine  in  her  dancing  eyes  and  a  voice  full 
of  the  lilt  of  laughter.  What  they  might  come  to 
be  to  each  other  both  were  already  speculating  about, 
though  neither  knew  as  yet.  They  were  the  best  of 
friends — good  comrades,  save  when  chance  eyes  said 
unguardedly  too  much.  For  the  girl  that  sufficed, 
but  it  was  not  enough  for  the  man.  He  knew  that 
he  had  found  the  one  woman  he  wanted  for  his  wife. 
But  Phyllis  only  wondered,  let  her  thoughts  rove 
over  many  things.  For  instance,  why  queer  throbs 
and  sudden  shyness  swept  her  soft  young  body.  She 
liked  Larrabie  Keller — oh,  so  much ! — but  her  untu 
tored  heart  could  not  quite  tell  her  whether  she 
loved  him.  His  eyes  drilled  into  her  electric  pul- 
'  sations  whenever  they  met  hers.  The  youth  in  him 
called  to  the  youth  in  her.  She  admired  him.  He 
stirred  her  imagination,  and  yet — and  yet 

They  rode  through  a  valley  of  gold  and  russet, 
all  warm  with  yellow  sunlight.  In  front  of  them, 

200 


"DROP  THAT  QUN  I 


Pace  205 


MAVERICKS  201 


the  Spur  projected  from  the  hill  ridge  into  the 
mountain  park. 

"Then  I  think  you're  a  cow-puncher  looking  for 
a  job,  but  not  very  anxious  to  find  one,"  she  was 
hazarding,  answering  a  question. 

"No.    That  leaves  you  one  more  guess/' 

"That  forces  me  to  believe  that  you  are  what  you 
say  you  are,"  she  mocked;  "just  a  plain,  prosaic 
homesteader." 

She  had  often  considered  in  her  mind  what  busi 
ness  might  be  his,  that  could  wait  while  he  lingered 
week  after  week  and  rode  trail  with  the  cowboys; 
but  it  had  not  been  the  part  of  hospitality  to  ask 
questions  of  her  friend.  This  might  seem  to  imply 
a  doubt,  and  of  doubt  she  had  none.  To-day,  he 
himself  had  broached  the  subject.  Having  brought 
it  up,  he  now  dropped  it  for  the  time. 

He  had  shaded  his  eyes,  and  was  gazing  at  some 
thing  that  held  his  attention — a  little  curl  of  smoke, 
rising  from  the  wash  in  front  of  them. 

"What  is  it?"  she  asked,  impatient  that  his  mind 
could  so  easily  be  diverted  from  her. 

"That  is  what  I'm  going  to  find  out.    Stay  here !" 

Rifle  in  hand,  Keller  slipped  forward  through  the 
brush.  His  imperative  "Stay  here!"  annoyed  her 
just  a  little.  She  uncased  her  rifle,  dropped  from 
the  saddle  as  he  had  done,  and  followed  him  through 
the  cacti.  Her  stealthy  advance  did  not  take  her  far 
before  she  came  to  the  wash. 

There    Keller    was    standing,    crouched    like    a 


202  MAVERICKS 


panther  ready  for  the  spring,  quite  motionless  and 
silent — watching  now  the  bushes  that  fringed  the 
edge  of  the  wash,  and  now  the  smoke  spiral  rising 
faintly  from  the  embers  of  a  fire. 

Slowly  the  man's  tenseness  relaxed.  Evidently 
he  had  made  up  his  mind  that  death  did  not  lurk 
in  the  bushes,  for  he  slid  down  into  the  wash  and 
stepped  across  to  the  fire.  Phyllis  started  to  follow 
him,  but  at  the  first  sound  of  slipping  rubble  her 
friend  had  her  covered. 

"I  told  you  not  to  come,"  he  reproached,  lowering 
his  rifle  as  soon  as  he  recognized  her. 

"But  I  wanted  to  come.  What  is  it?  Why  are 
you  so  serious?" 

His  eyes  were  busy  making  an  inventory  of  the 
situation,  his  mind,  too,  was  concentrated  on  the 
thing  before  him. 

"Do  you  think  it  is  rustlers?  Is  that  what  you 
mean?"  she  asked  quickly. 

"Wait  a  minute  and  I'll  tell  you  what  I  think." 
He  finished  making  his  observations  and  returned  to 
her.  "First,  I'll  tell  you  something  else,  something 
that  nobody  in  the  neighborhood  knows  but  you  and 
Jim  Yeager.  I  belong  to  the  ranger  force.  Lieu 
tenant  O'Connor  sent  me  here  to  clean  up  this  rust 
ling  that  has  been  going  on  for  several  years." 

"And  a  lot  of  the  boys  thought  you  were  a  rustler 
yourself,"  she  commented. 

"So  did  one  or  two  of  the  young  ladies,"  he 
smiled.  "But  that  is  not  the  business  before  this 


MAVERICKS  203 


meeting.  Because  I'm  trained  to  it  I  notice  things 
you  wouldn't.  For  instance,  I  saw  a  man  the  other 
day  with  a  horse  whose  hind  hoof  left  a  trail  like 
that" 

He  pointed  to  one,  and  then  another  track  in  the 
t soft  sand.     "Maybe  that  might  be  a  coincidence,  but; 
1  the  owner  of  that  horse  had  a  habit  of  squirting  to 
bacco  juice  on  clean  rocks — like  that — and  that." 

"That  doesn't  prove  he  has  been  rustling." 

"No;  but  the  signs  here  show  he  has  been  brand 
ing,  and  Buck  Weaver  ran  across  these  same  marks 
left  by  a  waddy  who  surely  was  making  free  with  a 
Twin  Star  calf." 

"How  long  has  he  been  gone?" 

"There  were  two  of  them,  and  they've  been  gone 
about  twenty  minutes." 

"How  do  you  know?" 

He  pointed  to  a  stain  of  tobacco  juice  still  moist. 

"Who  is  he?"  she  asked. 

He  knew  her  stanch  loyalty  to  her  friends,  and 
Tom  Dixon  had  been  a  friend  till  very  lately.  He 
hesitated;  then,  without  answering,  made  a  second 
thorough  examination  of  the  whole  ground. 

"Come — if  we  have  any  luck,  I'll  show  him  to 
fyou,"  he  said,  returning  to  her.  "But  you  must  do 
'just  as  I  say — must  be  under  my  orders." 

"I  will,"  she  promised. 

Forthwith,  they  started.  After  they  had  ridden  in 
silence  for  some  distance,  covering  ground  fast,  they 
drew  to  a  walk. 


204  MAVERICKS 


"You  know  by  the  trail  for  where  they  were 
heading,"  she  suggested  in  a  voice  that  was  a  ques 
tion. 

"I  guessed." 

Presently,  at  the  entrance  to  a  little  canon,  Kel 
ler  swung  down  and  examined  the  ground  carefully, 
seemed  satisfied,  and  rode  with  her  into  the  gully. 
But  she  noticed  that  now  he  went  cautiously,  eyes 
narrowed  and  wary,  with  the  hard  face  and  the  look 
of  a  coiled  spring  she  had  seen  on  him  before.  Her 
heart  drummed  with  excitement.  She  was  not 
afraid,  but  she  was  fearfully  alive. 

At  the  other  entrance  to  the  canon,  Larrabie  was 
down  again  for  another  examination.  What  he 
seemed  to  find  gave  him  pleasure. 

"They've  separated,"  he  told  Phyllis.  "We'll  give 
our  attention  to  the  gentleman  with  the  calf,  and 
let  his  friend  go,  to-day." 

They  swung  sharply  to  the  north,  taking  a  pre 
cipitous  trail  of  shale  that  Phyllis  judged  to  be  a 
short  cut.  It  was  rough  going,  but  their  mountain 
ponies  were  good  for  anything  less  than  a  perpen 
dicular  wall.  They  clambered  up  and  down  like  cats, 
as  sure-footed  as  wild  goats. 

At  the  summit  of  the  ridge,  Keller  pointed  out 
something  in  the  valley  below — a  rider  on  horse 
back,  driving  a  calf. 

"There  goes  Mr.  Waddy,  as  big  as  coffee/' 

"He's  going  to  swing  round  the  point.  You  mean 
to  drop  down  the  hill  and  cut  him  off?" 


MAVERICKS  205 


"That's  the  plan.  Better  do  no  more  talking  after 
we  pass  that  live  oak.  See  that  little  wash  ?  We'll 
drop  into  it,  and  hide  among  the  cottonwoods." 

The  rustler  was  pushing  along  hurriedly,  driving 
the  calf  at  a  trot,  half  the  time  twisted  in  the  saddle, 
with  anxious  eyes  to  the  rear.  Revolvers  and  a  rifle 
garnished  him,  but  quite  plainly  they  gave  him  no 
sense  of  safety. 

When  the  summons  came  to  him  to  "Drop  that 
gun !"  it  was  only  a  confirmation  of  his  fears.  Yet 
he  jumped  as  a  boy  jumps  under  the  unexpected 
cut  of  a  cane. 

The  rifle  went  clattering  to  the  stony  trail.  With 
out  being  ordered  to  do  so,  the  hands  of  the  waddy 
were  thrust  skyward. 

"Why,  it's  Tom  Dixon !  We've  made  a  mistake," 
Phyllis  discovered,  and  moved  forward  from  her 
hiding  place. 

"We've  made  no  mistake.  I  told  you  I'd  show 
you  the  rustler,  and  I've  shown  him  to  you,"  Keller 
answered,  as  he  too  stepped  forward.  And  to 
Tom,  whose  hands  dropped  at  sight  of  Phyllis: 
"Better  keep  them  reaching  till  I  get  those  guns. 
That's  right.  Now,  you  may  'light." 

"What's  got  into  you?"  demanded  Dixon,  his 
teeth  still  chattering.  "Holding  up  a  man  for 
nothing.  Take  away  that  gun  you  got  bent  on 
me!" 

"You're  under  arrest  for  rustling,  seh,"  the  cattle 
detective  told  him  sternly. 


206  MAVERICKS 


"Prove  it.  Prove  it!"  Dixon  swung  from  the 
saddle,  and  faced  the  other  doggedly. 

"That  calf  you're  driving  now  is  rustled.  You 
branded  it  less  than  two  hours  ago  in  Spring  Valley, 
right  by  the  three  cottonwoods  below  the  trail  to 
Yeager's  Spur." 

"How  do  you  know?"  cried  the  startled  youth. 
And  on  the  heels  of  that :  "It's  a  lie !"  He  was  get 
ting  a  better  grip  on  his  courage.  He  spat  defiantly 
a  splash  of  tobacco  juice  on  a  flat  pebble  which  his 
eye  found.  "No  such  thing !  This  calf  was  a  mav 
erick.  Ask  Phyl.  She'll  tell  you  I'm  no  rustler." 

Phyllis  said  nothing.  Her  gaze  was  very  steadily 
on  Tom. 

Keller  pointed  to  the  evidence  which  the  hoof  of 
the  horse  had  printed  on  the  trail,  and  to  that  which 
the  man  had  written  on  the  pebble.  "We  found  both 
these  signs  once  before.  They  were  left  by  one  of 
the  rustlers  operating  in  this  vicinity.  That  time  it 
was  a  Twin  Star  brand  you  blotted.  You've  done 
a  poor  job,  for  I  can  see  there  has  been  another 
brand  there.  Your  partner  left  you  with  the  cow 
at  the  entrance  to  the  canon.  Caught  red-handed  as 
you  have  been  driving  the  calf  to  your  place,  you'll 
find  all  this  aggregates  evidence  enough  to  send 
you  to  the  penitentiary.  Buck  Weaver  will  attend 
to  that." 

"It's  a  conspiracy.  You  and  him  mean  to  rail 
road  me  through,"  Tom  charged  sullenly.  "I  tell 
you,  Phyllis  knows  I'm  no  rustler." 


MAVERICKS  207 


"I've  known  you  were  one  ever  since  the  day  you 
wanted  to  go  back  and  tell  where  Weaver  was  hid 
den.  You  and  your  pony  scattered  the  evidence 
around  then,  just  as  you're  doing  here,"  the  ranger 
answered. 

"You've  got  it  cooked  up  to  put  me  through,' 
Dixon  insisted  desperately.     "You  want  to  get  me 
out  of  the  way,  so  you'll  have  a  clear  track  with 
Phyl.     Think  I  don't  sabe  your  game?" 

The  angry  color  sucked  into  Keller's  face  beneath 
the  tan.  He  avoided  looking  at  Phyllis.  "We'll 
not  discuss  that,  seh.  But  I  can  say  that  kind  of 
talk  won't  help  buy  you  anything." 

The  girl  looked  at  Dixon  in  silent  contempt.  She 
was  very  angry,  so  that  for  the  moment  her  embar 
rassment  was  swamped.  But  she  did  not  choose 
to  dignify  his  spleen  by  replying  to  it. 

There  was  no  iron  in  Dixon's  make-up.  When 
he  saw  that  this  attack  had  reacted  against  him,  he 
tried  whining. 

"Honest,  you're  wrong  about  this  calf,  Mr.  Kel 
ler.  I  don't  say,  mind  you,  it  ain't  a  rustled  calf. 
It  may  be ;  but  I  don't  know  it  if  it  is.  Maybe  the 
rustlers  were  scared  off  just  before  I  happened  on 
it." 

"We'll  see  how  a  jury  looks  at  that.  You're  go 
ing  to  get  the  chance  to  tell  that  story  to  one,  I  ex 
pect,"  Larrabie  remarked  dryly. 

"Pass  it  up  this  time,  and  I'll  get  out  of  the  coun 
try,"  the  youth  promised. 


208  MAVERICKS 


"Take  care!  Whatever  you  say  will  be  used 
against  you." 

"Suppose  I  did  rustle  one  of  Buck  Weaver's 
calves — mind,  I  don't  say  I  did — but  say  I  did? 
Didn't  he  bust  my  father  up  in  business?  Ain't  he 
aiming  to  do  the  same  by  your  folks,  Phyl?"  He 
was  almost  ready  to  cry. 

The  girl  turned  her  head  aside,  and  spoke  in  a 
low  voice  to  Keller.  She  was  greatly  angered  and 
disgusted  at  Tom;  but  she  had  been  his  friend,  and 
on  this  occasion  there  had  been  some  justification  for 
him  in  the  wrong  the  cattleman  had  done  his  family. 

"Do  you  have  to  report  him  and  have  him  prose 
cuted?" 

"I'm  paid  to  stop  the  rustling  that  has  been  going 
on,"  answered  Keller,  in  the  same  undertone. 

"He  won't  do  it  again.  He  has  had  his  scare.  It 
will  last  him  a  lifetime."  Even  while  she  promised 
it  for  him,  it  was  not  without  contempt  for  the  poor- 
spirited  craven  who  could  be  so  easily  driven  from 
his  evil  ways.  If  a  man  must  do  wrong,  let  it  be 
boldly — as  Buck  Weaver  did  it. 

"Yes,  but  his  pals  haven't  had  theirs." 

"But  you  don't  know  them." 

"I  can  guess  one  man  in  it  with  him.  We've  got 
to  root  the  thing  out." 

"Why  not  serve  warning  on  him  by  Tom  ?  Then 
they  would  both  clear  out." 

Dixon  divined  that  she  was  pleading  for  him, 


MAVERICKS  209 


and  edged  in  another  word  for  himself.  "Whatever 
wrong  I've  done  Fve  been  driven  to.  There's  been 
an  older  man  to  lead  me  into  it,  too." 

"You  mean  Red  Hughes  ?"  Keller  said  sharply. 

Tom  hesitated.  He  had  not  got  to  the  point  of 
betraying  his  accomplice.  "I  ain't  saying  who  I 
mean.  Nor,  for  that  matter,  I  ain't  admitting  I've 
done  any  particular  wrong — no  more  than  other 
young  fellows." 

Keller  brought  him  sharply  to  time.  "You've 
used  your  last  wet  blanket.  I've  got  the  evidence 
that  will  put  you  behind  the  bars.  Miss  Phyllis 
wants  me  to  let  you  off.  I  can't  do  it  unless  you 
make  a  clean  breast  of  it.  You'll  either  come 
through  with  what  I  want  to  know,  and  do  as  I  say, 
or  you'll  have  to  stand  the  gaff." 

"What  do  you  want  to  know  ?" 

"How  many  pals  had  you  in  this  rustling?" 

"You  said  you  would  use  against  me  anything  I 
said." 

"I  say  now  I'll  use  it  for  you  if  you  tell  the  truth 
and  meet  my  conditions." 

"What  are  your  conditions?" 

"Never  mind.  You'll  learn  them  later.  Answer 
my  question.  How  many?" 

"One" — very  sullenly. 

"Red  Hughes  ?" 

"That's  the  one  thing  I  can't  tell  you,"  the  lad 
cried.  "Don't  you  see  I  can't?" 


210  MAVERICKS 


"It's  the  one  thing  I  don't  need  to  know.  I've 
got  Red  cinched  about  as  tight  as  you,  my  boy.  How 
long  has  this  been  going  on?" 

The  information  came  from  Dixon  as  reluctantly 
as  a  tight  cork  'comes  from  a  bottle.  "Nearly  a 
year." 

Sharp,  incisive  questions  followed,  one  after  an 
other;  and  at  the  end  of  the  quiz  Tom  was  pumped 
nearly  dry.  Those  who  heard  his  confession  lis 
tened  to  the  story  of  how  and  why  he  had  first 
started  rustling — the  tale  of  each  exploit,  the  loca 
tion  of  the  mountain  cache  where  the  calves  had  been 
driven,  even  the  name  of  the  Mexican  buyer  who 
once  had  come  across  the  line  to  receive  a  bunch  of 
stolen  cattle. 

Keller  laid  down  his  conditions.  "You'll  go  to 
Red  muy  pronto,  and  tell  him  he's  got  thirty-six 
hours  to  get  across  the  line.  He  and  you  will  go 
to  Sonora,  and  you'll  stay  there.  We've  got  you 
dead  to  rights.  Show  up  in  this  country  again,  and 
you'll  both  go  to  Yuma.  Understand?" 

Tom  understood  well  enough.  He  writhed  un 
der  it,  but  he  was  up  against  the  need  of  surrender. 
Sullenly  he  waited  until  the  other  had  laid  down 
'the  law,  then  asked  for  his  weapons.  Keller  emptied 
the  chambers  of  the  cartridges,  and  returned  the  re 
volvers,  looking  also  to  the  magazine  of  the  rifle 
before  he  handed  it  back.  Without  a  word,  with 
out  even  a  nod  or  a  glance,  Dixon  rode  out  of  the 
gulch. 


MAVERICKS 


The  eyes  of  the  remaining  two  met,  and  became 
tangled  at  once.  Hastily  both  pairs  withdrew. 

"We'll  have  to  drive  the  calf  back,  won't  we?" 
said  Phyllis,  seizing  on  the  first  irrelevant  thing  that 
occurred  to  say. 

"Yes— as  far  as  Tryon's." 

Presently  she  said :  "Do  you  think  they  will  leave 
the  country?" 

"No." 

Her  glance  swept  him  in  surprise.  "Then — why 
did  you  let  him  go  so  easily?" 

He  smiled.     "Didn't  you  ask  me  to  let  him  off?" 

"Yes;  but "  How  could  she  explain  that  by 

lapsing  from  his  duty  so  far,  even  at  her  request, 
he  had  disappointed  her! 

"No,  ma'am!  I'm  a  false  alarm.  It  wasn't  out 
of  gallantry  I  unroped  him.  Shall  I  tell  you  why  it 
was?  I  kept  naming  Red  as  his  partner.  But 
Hughes  ain't  in  this.  He  has  been  in  Sonora  for  a 
year.  When  Tom  goes  back  all  worried  and  tells 
what  has  happened  to  him,  the  gentleman  who  is  the 
brains  for  the  outfit  is  going  to  be  right  pleased  I'm 
following  a  false  trail.  That's  liable  to  make  him 
more  careless.  If  we  had  had  the  evidence  to  cinch 
Dixon  it  would  have  been  different.  But  a  roan 
calf  is  a  roan  calf.  I  don't  expect  the  owner  could 
swear  to  it,  even  if  we  knew  who  he  was.  So  I 
made  my  little  play  and  let  him  go." 

"And  I  thought  all  the  time  you  were  doing  it 
for  me,"  she  laughed,  and  on  the  heels  of  it  made 


MAVERICKS 


her  little  confession:  "And  I  was  blaming  you  for 
giving  way." 

"I'll  know  now  that  the  way  to  please  you  is  not 
to  do  what  you  want  me  to  do/' 

"You  know  a  lot  about  girls,  don't  you?"  she 
mocked. 

"Me,  I'm  a  wiz,"  he  agreed  with  her  derision. 

Keller  spoke  absently,  considering  whether  this 
might  be  the  propitious  moment  to  try  his  luck. 
They  had  been  comrades  together  in  an  adventure 
well  concluded.  Both  were  thinking  of  what  Dixon 
had  said.  It  seemed  to  Larrabie  that  it  would  be  a 
wonderful  thing  if  they  might  ride  back  through 
the  warm  sunlight  with  this  new  miracle  of  her  love 
in  his  life.  It  was  at  the  meeting  of  their  fingers, 
when  he  gave  her  the  bridle,  that  he  spoke. 

"I've  got  to  say  it,  Miss  Phyllis.  I've  got  to  know 
where  I  stand." 

She  understood  him  of  course.  The  touch  of 
their  eyes  had  warmed  her  even  before  he  began. 
But  "Stand  how?"  she  repeated  feebly. 

"With  you.  I  love  you!  We  both  know  that. 
What  about  you  ?  Could  you  care  for  me  ?  Do  you  ?" 

Her  shy,  deep  eyes  met  his  fairly.  "I  don't  know. 
Sometimes  I  think  I  do,  and  then  sometimes  I  think 
I  don't— that  way." 

The  touch  of  affection  that  made  his  face  occasion 
ally  tender  as  a  woman's,  lit  his  warm  smile. 

"Couldn't  you  make  that  first  sometimes  always, 
don't  you  reckon,  Phyllis?" 


MAVERICKS 


"Ah!  If  I  knew!  But  I  don't— truly,  I  don't. 
I — I  want  to  care,"  she  confessed,  with  divine  shy 
ness. 

"That's  good  listening.  Couldn't  you  go  ahead 
on  those  times  you  do,  honey?" 

"No!"  She  drew  back  from  his  advance.  "No — 
give  me  time.  I'm — I'm  not  sure — I'm  not  at  all 
sure.  I  can't  explain,  but " 

"Can't  decide  between  me  and  another  man?"  he 
suggested,  by  way  of  a  joke,  to  lighten  her  objec 
tion. 

Then,  in  a  flash,  he  knew  that  by  accident  he  had 
hit  the  truth.  The  startled  look  of  doubt  in  her 
eyes  told  him.  Perhaps  she  had  not  known  it  her 
self  before,  but  his  words  had  clarified  her  mind. 
There  was  another  man  in  the  running — one  not  to 
be  thrust  aside  easily. 

Phyllis'  first  impulse  was  to  be  alone.  She  turned 
her  face  away  and  busied  herself  with  a  stirrup 
leather. 

"Don't  say  anything  more  now — please.  I'm  such 
a  little  goose !  I  don't  know — yet.  Won't  you  wait 
and — forget  it  till — say,  till  next  week?" 

He  promised  to  wait,  but  he  did  not  promise  to 
forget  it.  As  they  rode  home,  he  made  cheerful  talk 
on  many  subjects;  but  the  one  in  both  their  minds 
was  that  which  had  been  banned.  Every  silence 
was  full  charged  with  it.  Its  suppression  ran  like 
quicksilver  through  every  spoken  sentence. 


CHAPTER  XVI 

A    WATERSPOUT 

Almost  imperceptibly,  Buck  Weaver's  relation  to 
his  jailers  changed.  It  was  still  understood  that  their 
interests  differed,  but  the  personal  bitterness  was 
largely  gone.  He  went  riding  occasionally  with  the 
boys,  rather  as  a  guest  than  as  a  prisoner. 

At  any  time  he  might  have  escaped,  but  for  a  tacit 
understanding  that  he  would  stay  until  Menendez 
was  strong  enough  to  be  sent  home  from  the  Twin 
Star. 

One  pleasure,  however,  was  denied  him.  He  saw 
nothing  of  Phyllis,  save  for  a  distant  glimpse  or 
two  when  she  was  starting  to  school  or  returning 
from  a  ride  with  Larrabie  Keller.  He  knew  that 
her  father  and  her  brother  were  studiously  eliminat 
ing  him,  so  far  as  she  was  concerned.  Certain  events 
had  been  of  a  nature  to  induce  whispered  gossip. 
Fortunately,  such  gossip  had  been  nipped  in  the  bud. 
They  intended  that  there  should  be  no  revival  of  it. 

Weaver  had  sent  word  to  the  riders  of  the  Twin 
Star  that  there  was  to  be  nothing  doing  in  the  matter 
of  the  feud  until  his  return. 


MAVERICKS  215 


He  had  at  the  same  time  ordered  from  them  a 
change  of  linen,  a  box  of  his  favorite  cigars,  and 
certain  papers  to  be  found  in  his  desk.  These  in  due 
time  were  delivered  by  Jesus  Menendez  in  person, 
together  with  a  note  from  the  ranch. 

TWIN  STAR  RANCH,  Tuesday  Morning. 
DERE  BUCK  :  You've  sure  got  us  up  in  the  air. 
The  boys  was  figurring  some  on  rounding  up  the 
whole  Seven  Mile  outfit  in  a  big  drive,  but  looks  like 
you  got  other  notions.  Wise  us  if  you  want  the  co 
operation  of 

PESKY  and  the  other  boys. 

With  a  smile,  Weaver  showed  it  to  Phil.  "Shall 
I  send  word  to  the  boys  to  start  on  the  round 
up?" 

"It  won't  be  necessary.  You  don't  need  their  co 
operation.  Fact  is,  now  Menendez  is  back,  you're 
free  to  go.  'Rastus  is  getting  your  horse  right 


now." 


The  cattleman  realized  instantly  that  he  did  not 
want  to  go.  Business  affairs  at  home  pressed  for 
his  attention,  but  he  felt  extremely  reluctant  to  pull 
out  and  leave  the  field  in  possession  of  Larrabie 
Keller,  even  temporarily.  He  could  not,  however, 
verj  well  say  so. 

"Good  enough,"  he  said  brusquely.  "Before  I  go, 
we'd  better  settle  the  matter  of  the  range.  Send 
for  your  father,  and  I'll  make  him  a  proposition  that 
looks  fair  to  me." 


216  MAVERICKS 


When  Sanderson  arrived,  he  found  the  cattleman 
with  a  map  of  the  county  spread  before  him  upon 
the  table.  With  a  pencil  he  divided  the  range  in  a 
zigzag,  twisting  line. 

"How  about  that?  I'll  take  all  on  the  valley  side. 
You  take  what  is  in  the  hills  and  the  parks." 

Sanderson  looked  at  him  in  astonishment.  "That's 
all  we've  been  contending  for!" 

Buck  nodded.  "Since  you  get  what  you  want,  you 
ought  to  be  satisfied,"  he  said  gruffly.  "Of  course, 
there  will  have  to  be  some  give-and-take  about  this. 
My  cattle  will  cross  the  line.  So  will  yours.  That 
can't  be  helped.  I've  worked  out  this  problem  of 
the  range  feed  pretty  thoroughly.  My  territory  will 
feed  just  about  as  many  as  yours.  Each  year  we 
can  arrange  together  to  keep  the  number  of  cattle 
down." 

Under  his  shaggy  brows,  Sanderson  looked  at 
him  in  perplexity.  The  proposition  was  more  than 
generous.  It  meant  that  Weaver  would  have  to  sell 
off  about  a  thousand  head  of  cattle,  while  the  hill- 
men,  on  the  other  hand,  could  increase  their  hold 
ings. 

"What  about  sheep?"  the  old  man  asked  bluntly. 

Buck's  stony  gaze  met  his  steadily.  "I'm  going 
to  leave  those  sheep  on  your  conscience,  Mr.  San 
derson.  You'll  have  to  settle  that  matter  for  your 
self." 

"You  mean  you'll  not  stand  in  the  way,  if  I  want 
to  keep  them?" 


MAVERICKS 


"That's  what  I  mean.    It's  up  to  you." 

Phil,  who  was  sitting  on  the  porch  sewing  on  a 
pair  of  leather  chaps,  indulged  in  a  grin.  "I  see 
this  is  where  we  go  out  of  the  sheep  business,"  he 
said. 

"The  market's  good.  I  don't  know  but  what  it 
would  be  the  right  thing  to  sell,"  his  father  agreed. 
"I  want  to  meet  you  halfway  in  settling  this  trouble, 
Mr.  Weaver." 

The  matter  was  discussed  further  at  some  length, 
after  which  the  cattleman  shook  hands  all  round  and 
departed.  Out  of  the  tail  of  his  eye  he  saw  Keller 
saddling  a  horse  at  the  stables. 

"Think  I'll  beat  you  out  of  that  ride  with  the 
schoolmarm  to-day,  my  friend.  A  steady  diet  of 
rides  like  that  is  liable  to  intoxicate  a  man,"  he  told 
himself,  with  his  grim  smile.  In  plain  sight  of  all, 
he  turned  the  head  of  his  horse  toward  the  road  that 
led  to  the  schoolhouse. 

Presently  he  met  pupils  galloping  home,  calling 
to  each  other  joyously  as  they  rode.  Others  fol 
lowed  more  sedately  in  buggies.  Nearer  the  school- 
house  he  came  on  one  walking. 

After  Phyllis  had  looked  over  some  papers,  made 
up  her  weekly  report,  and  outlined  on  the  board  work 
for  next  day,  she  saddled  her  pony  and  set  out  home 
ward.  Not  in  ten  years  had  the  country  been  so 
green  and  lovely  as  it  was  now.  There  had  been 
many  winter  snows  and  spring  rains,  so  that  the 
alfilaria  covered  the  hills  with  a  carpet  of  grass. 


S18  MAVERICKS 


Muddy  little  rivulets,  pouring  down  arroyos  on  their 
way  from  the  mountains,  showed  that  there  had  been 
recent  rains.  These  all  ran  into  the  Del  Oro,  a 
creek  which  was  dry  in  summer  but  was  now  full 
to  its  banks. 

She  followed  the  river  into  the  canon  of  the  sam-r 
name,  a  narrow  gulch  with  sheer  precipitous  walls. 
So  much  water  was  in  the  river  that  the  trail  along 
the  bank  scarce  gave  the  pony  footing.  Half  a  mile 
from  the  point  where  she  had  entered  the  Del  Oro 
the  trail  crept  up  the  wall  and  escaped  to  the  mesa 
above.  Phyllis  was  nearing  the  ascent  when  a  sound 
startled  her.  She  swung  round  in  her  saddle,  to  see 
a  wall  of  water  roaring  down  the  lane  with  the  leap 
of  some  terrible  wild  beast.  Somewhere  in  the  hills 
there  had  been  a  waterspout. 

She  called  upon  her  pony  with  spur  and  voice, 
racing  desperately  for  the  place  where  the  trail  rose. 
Of  that  wild  dash  for  life  she  remembered  nothing 
afterward  save  the  overmastering  sense  of  peril. 
She  knew  that  the  roan  was  pounding  forward  with 
the  best  speed  in  him,  and  presently  she  knew  too 
that  no  speed  could  save  her.  The  roar  of  the  ad 
vancing  water  grew  louder  as  it  swept  upon  her. 
With  a  cry  of  terror  she  dragged  the  pony  to  its 
haunches,  slipped  from  the  saddle,  and  attempted  to* 
climb  the  rock  face. 

Catching  hold  of  outcropping  ledges,  mesquit,  and 
even  cactus  bushes,  she  went  up  like  a  mountain 
goat.  But  the  water  swept  upon  her,  waist  high, 


MAVERICKS  219 


and  dragged  at  her.  She  clung  to  a  quartz  knob 
her  fingers  had  found,  but  her  feet  were  swept  from 
her  by  the  suction  of  the  torrent.  Her  hold  re 
laxed,  and  she  slid  back  into  the  river. 

Like  a  flash  of  light  a  rope  descended  over  her 
outstretched  arms,  tightened  at  her  waist,  and  held 
her  taut.  She  felt  the  pain  of  a  tremendous  tug  th?.t 
seemed  to  tear  her  in  two.  Dimly  her  brain  re 
ported  that  somebody  was  shouting.  A  long  time 
afterward,  as  it  seemed  to  her  then,  a  strong  arm 
went  round  her.  Inch  by  inch  she  was  dragged  from 
the  water  that  fought  and  wrestled  for  her.  Phyllis 
knew  that  her  rescuer  was  working  up  the  cliff  wall 
with  her.  Then  her  perceptions  blurred. 

"I'll  never  make  it  this  way,"  he  told  himself 
aloud,  half  way  up. 

In  fact,  he  had  come  to  an  impasse.  Even  with 
out  the  burden  of  her  weight,  the  sheer  smooth  wall 
rose  insurmountable  above  him.  He  did  the  one 
thing  left  for  him  to  do.  Leaving  her  unconscious 
body  in  a  sort  of  trough  formed  by  the  juncture  of 
two  strata,  he  lowered  himself  into  the  rushing 
stream,  searched  with  his  foot  for  a  grip,  and  swung 
to  the  left  into  the  niche  formed  by  a  mesquit  bush 
growing  from  the  rock.  From  here,  after  stiff  climb 
ing,  he  reached  the  top. 

He  found,  as  he  had  expected,  his  cow  pony  with 
feet  braced  to  keep  the  rope  taut.  Old  Baldy  was 
practising  the  lesson  learned  from  scores  of  roped 
steers.  No  man  in  the  Malpais  country  was  stronger 


220  MAVERICKS 


than  this  one.  In  another  minute  he  had  drawn  up 
the  girl  and  laid  her  on  the  grass. 

Soon  she  opened  her  eyes  and  looked  into  his 
troubled  face. 

"Mr.  Weaver,"  she  breathed  in  faint  surprise. 
"Where  am  I?" 

But  her  glances  were  already  answering  the  ques 
tion.  They  took  in  the  rope  under  her  arms,  fol 
lowed  it  to  the  horn  of  the  saddle,  around  which 
the  other  end  was  tied,  and  came  back  to  the  leath 
ery  weather-beaten  face  that  looked  down  into  hers. 

"You  have  saved  my  life." 

"Not  me.  Old  Baldy  did  it.  I  never  could  have 
got  you  out  alone.  When  I  roped  you,  he  backed  off 
same  as  if  you  had  been  a  steer,  and  pulled  for  all 
there  was  in  him.  Between  us  we  got  you  up." 

"Good  old  Baldy!"  She  let  it  go  at  that  for  the 
moment,  while  she  thought  it  out.  "If  you  hadn't 

been  right  here "  She  finished  her  sentence  with 

a  shudder. 

She  could  not  guess  how  that  thought  stabbed 
him,  for  he  replied  cheerfully:  "I  heard  you  call, 
and  Baldy  brought  me  on  the  jump." 

Phyllis  covered  her  face  with  her  hands.  She 
was  badly  shaken  and  could  not  quite  control  her 
self.  "It  was  awful — awful."  And  short  staccato 
sobs  shook  her. 

Buck  put  his  arm  around  her  shoulders,  and 
soothed  her  gently.  "Don't  you  care,  Phyllis.  It's 
all  past  now.  Forget  it,  little  girl." 


MAVERICKS 


"It  was  like  some  tremendous  wild  beast — a  thou 
sand  times  stronger  and  crueller  than  a  grizzly.  It 
leaped  at  me,  and Oh,  if  you  hadn't  been  here !" 

She  caught  at  his  sleeve  and  clung  to  it  with  both 
hands. 

"If  a  fellow  sticks  around  long  enough  he  is  sure 
to  come  in  handy/'  Buck  told  her  lightly. 

She  did  not  answer,  but  presently  she  walked 
across  a  little  unsteadily  and  put  her  arms  around  the 
neck  of  the  white-faced  broncho.  Her  face  she 
buried  in  its  mane.  Weaver  knew  she  was  crying 
softly,  and  he  wisely  left  her  alone  while  he  recoiled 
the  rope. 

Presently  she  recovered  her  composure  and  began 
to  pat  the  white  silken  nose  of  the  pony. 

"You  helped  him  to  save  my  life,  Baldy.  Even  he 
couldn't  have  done  it  without  you.  How  can  I  ever 
pay  you  for  it?" 

Weaver  had  an  inspiration.  "He's  yours  from 
this  moment.  You  can  pay  him  by  taking  him  for 
your  saddle  horse.  Baldy  will  never  ride  the  round 
up  again.  We'll  give  him  a  Carnegie  medal  and  re 
tire  him  on  a  good-service  pension  so  far  as  the 
rough  work  goes." 

Without  looking  at  him,  the  girl  answered  softly : 
"Thank  you.  I  know  I'm  taking  from  you  the  best 
cow-pony  in  Arizona,  but  I  can't  help  it." 

"A  cow-pony  is  a  cow-pony,  but  a  horse  that  saves 
the  life  of  Miss  Phyllis  Sanderson  is  a  gentleman 
and  a  hero." 


MAVERICKS 


"And  what  about  the  man  who  saves  her  life?" 
Her  voice  was  very  small  and  weepy. 

"Tickled  to  death  to  have  the  chance.  Well  for 
get  that." 

Still  she  did  not  look  at  him.  "Never !  Never  as 
long  as  I  live/'  she  cried  vehemently. 

It  came  to  him  that  if  he  was  ever  going  to  put 
his  fortune  to  the  test  now  was  the  time.  He  strode 
across  and  swung  her  round  till  she  faced  him. 

"As  long  as  you  live,  Phyllis.  And  you're  only 
eighteen.  Me,  I'm  thirty-seven.  I  lack  just  a  year 
of  being  twice  as  old.  What  about  it?  Am  I  too 
old  and  too  hard  and  tough  for  you,  little  girl?" 

"I — don't — understand." 

"Yes,  you  do.  I'm  asking  you  to  marry  me.  Will 
you?" 

"Oh,  Mr.  Weaver !"  she  gasped. 

"I  ought  to  wrap  it  up  pretty,  oughtn't  I?  But 
there's  nothing  pretty  about  me.  No  woman  should 
marry  me  if  she  can  help  it,  not  unless  her  heart 
brings  her  to  me  in  spite  of  herself.  Is  it  that  way 
with  you?" 

Never  before  had  she  met  a  man  like  him,  so  mas 
terful  and  virile.  He  took  short  cuts  as  if  he  did  not 
notice  the  "No  Trespassing"  sign.  She  read  in  him 
a  passion  clamped  by  a  will  of  iron,  and  there  thrilled 
through  her  a  fierce  delight  in  her  power  over  this 
splendid  type  of  the  male  lover.  She  lived  in  a 
world  of  men,  lean,  wide-shouldered  fellows,  who 
moved  and  had  their  being  in  conditions  that  made 


MAVERICKS 


hickory  withes  of  them  physically,  hard  close- 
mouthed  citizens  mentally.  But  even  by  the  fron 
tier  tests  of  efficiency,  of  gameness,  of  going  the 
limit,  Weaver  stood  head  and  shoulders  above  his 
neighbors.  She  had  lifted  her  gaze  to  meet  his,  quite 
sure  that  her  answer  was  not  in  doubt,  but  now  her 
heart  was  beating  like  a  triphammer.  She  felt  her 
self  drifting  from  her  moorings.  It  was  as  though 
she  were  drowning  forty  fathoms  deep  in  those  calm, 
unwinking  eyes  of  his. 

"I  dont  think  so,"  she  cried  desperately. 

"You've  got  to  be  sure.     I  don't  want  you  else/* 

"Yes — yes!"  she  cried  eagerly.    "Don't  rush  me." 

"Take  all  the  time  you  need.  You  can't  be  any  too 
sure  to  suit  me." 

"I— I  don't  think  it  will  be  yes,"  she  told  him 
shyly. 

"I'm  betting  it  will,"  he  said  confidently.  "And 
now,  little  girl,  it's  time  we  started.  You'll  ride 
your  Carnegie  horse  and  I'll  walk." 

Her  eyes  dilated,  for  this  brought  to  her  mind 
something  she  had  forgotten.  "My  roan !  What  do 
you  think  has  become  of  it?" 

He  shook  his  head,  preferring  not  to  guess  aloud. 
'As  he  helped  her  to  the  saddle  his  eyes  fell  on  a 
stain  of  red  running  from  the  wrist  of  her  gauntlet. 

"You've  hurt  your  hand,"  he  cried. 

"It  must  have  been  when  I  caught  at  the  cactus." 

Gently  he  slipped  off  the  glove.  Cruel  thorns  had 
torn  the  skin  in  a  dozen  places.  He  drew  the  little 


MAVERICKS 


spikes  out  one  by  one.  Phyllis  winced,  but  did  not 
cry  out.  After  he  had  removed  the  last  of  them  he 
tied  her  handkerchief  neatly  round  the  wounds  and 
drew  on  the  gauntlet  again.  It  had  been  only  a 
small  service,  nothing  at  all  compared  to  the  great 
one  he  had  just  rendered,  but  somehow  it  had  tight 
ened  his  hold  on  her.  She  wondered  whether  she 
would  have  to  marry  Buck  Weaver  no  matter  what 
she  really  wanted  to  do. 

With  her  left  hand  she  guided  Baldy,  while  Buck 
strode  beside,  never  wavering  from  the  easy,  power 
ful  stride  that  was  the  expression  of  his  sinuous 
strength. 

"Were  you  ever  tired  in  your  life?"  she  asked 
once,  with  a  little  sigh  of  fatigue. 

He  stopped  in  his  stride,  full  of  self-reproach. 
"Now,  ain't  that  like  me!  Pluggin'  ahead,  and 
never  thinking  about  how  played  out  you  are.  We'll 
rest  here  under  these  cottonwoods." 

He  lifted  her  down,  for  she  was  already  very  stiff 
and  sore  from  her  adventure.  An  outdoor  life  had 
given  her  a  supple  strength  and  a  wiry  endurance,  of 
which  her  slender  frame  furnished  no  indication,  but 
the  reaction  from  the  strain  was  upon  her.  To  Buck 
she  looked  pathetically  wan  and  exhausted.  He  put 
her  down  under  a  tree  and  arranged  her  saddle  for  a 
pillow.  Again  the  girl  felt  a  net  was  being  wound 
round  her,  that  she  belonged  to  him  and  could  not 
escape.  Nor  was  she  sure  that  she  wanted  to  get 
away  from  his  possessive  energy.  In  the  pleasant 


MAVERICKS 


sun  glow  she  fell  asleep,  without  any  intention  of 
doing  so.  Two  hours  later  she  opened  her  eyes. 

Looking  round,  she  saw  Weaver  lying  flat  on  his 
back  fifty  yards  away. 

"I've  been  asleep,"  she  called. 

He  leaped  to  his  feet  and  walked  across  the  sand 
to  her. 

"I  suspected  it,"  he  said  with  a  smile. 

"I  feel  like  a  new  woman  now/' 

"Like  one  of  them  suffragettes?" 

"That  isn't  quite  what  I  meant,"  she  smiled.  "Fra 
ready  to  start." 

Half  an  hour  later  they  reached  her  home.  It 
was  dese  to  supper  time,  but  Weaver  would  not 
stay. 

"See  you  next  week,"  he  said  quietly,  and  turned 
his  horse  toward  the  Twin  Star  ranch. 


CHAPTER  XVII 

THE  HOLD-UP 

f 

From  the  wash  where  the  sink  of  the  Mimbres 
edges  close  to  Noches  two  riders  emerged  in  mid- 
afternoon  of  a  day  that  shimmered  under  the  heat 
of  a  blazing  sun.  They  travelled  in  silence,  the 
core  of  an  alkali  dust  cloud  that  moved  with  them 
and  lay  thick  upon  them.  Well  down  over  their 
eyes  were  drawn  the  broad-rimmed  hats.  One  of 
them  wore  sun  goggles  .and  both  of  them  had  their 
lower  faces  covered  by  silk  bandannas  as  if  to  keep 
out  the  thick  dust  their  ponies  stirred.  For  the  rest 
their  costumes  were  the  undistinguished  chaps,  spurs, 
shirt,  neckerchiefs,  and  gauntlets  of  the  range. 

With  one  distinction,  however :  these  were  better 
armed  than  the  average  cow-puncher  jaunting  to 
town  for  the  quarterly  spree.  Revolver  butts  peeped 
from  the  holsters  of  their  loosely  hung  cartridge 
belts.  Moreover,  their  rifles  were  not  strapped  be 
neath  the  stirrup  leathers,  but  were  carried  across 
the  pommels  of  the  saddles. 

The  bell  in  the  town  hall  announced  three  o'clock 
as  they  reached  the  First  National  Bank  at  the  cor 
ner  of  San  Miguel  and  Main  Streets.  Here  one  of 


MAVERICKS 


the  riders  swung  from  the  saddle,  handed  the  reins 
and  his  rifle  to  the  other  man,  and  jingled  into  the 
bank.  His  companion  took  the  horses  round  to  the 
side  entrance  of  the  building,  and  waited  there  in 
such  shade  as  two  live  oaks  offered. 

He  had  scarce  drawn  rein  when  two  other  riders' 
joined  him,  having  come  from  a  direction  at  right 
angles  to  that  followed  by  him.  One  of  them  rode 
an  iron-gray,  the  other  a  roan  with  white  stockings. 
Both  of  these  dismounted,  and  one  of  them  passed 
through  the  side  door  into  the  bank.  Almost  in 
stantly  he  reappeared  and  nodded  to  his  comrade, 
who  joined  him  with  his  own  rifle  and  that  of  the 
first  man  that  had  gone  in. 

There  was  an  odd  similarity  in  arms,  manner,  and 
dress  between  these  and  the  first  arrivals.  Once  in 
side  the  building,  each  of  them  slipped  a  black  mask 
over  his  face.  Then  one  stepped  quickly  to  the  front 
door  and  closed  and  locked  it,  while  the  other  simul 
taneously  covered  the  teller  with  a  revolver. 

The  cashier,  busy  in  conversation  with  the  first 
horseman  about  a  loan  the  other  had  said  he  wanted, 
was  sitting  with  his  back  to  the  cage  of  the  teller. 
The  first  warning  he  had  of  anything  unusual  was 
the  closing  of  the  door  by  a  masked  man.  One 
glance  was  enough  to  tell  him  the  bank  was  about 
to  be  robbed. 

His  hand  moved  swiftly  toward  the  drawer  in  his 
desk  which  contained  a  weapon,  but  stopped  halfway 
to  its  destination.  For  he  was  looking  squarely 


228  MAVERICKS 


into  the  rim  of  a  six-shooter  less  than  a  foot  from 
his  forehead.  The  gun  was  in  the  hands  of  the  client 
with  whom  he  had  been  talking. 

"Don't  do  that,"  the  man  advised  him  brusquely. 
Then,  more  sharply:  "Reach  for  the  roof.  No 
monkeying." 

Benson,  the  cashier,  was  no  coward,  but  neither 
was  he  a  fool.  He  knew  when  not  to  take  a  chance. 
Promptly  his  arms  shot  up.  But  even  while  he 
obeyed,  his  eyes  were  carrying  to  his  brain  a  classi 
fication  of  this  man  for  future  identification.  The 
bandit  was  a  stranger  to  him,  a  heavy-set,  bandy 
legged  fellow  of  about  forty-five,  with  a  leathery 
face  and  eyes  as  stony  as  those  of  a  snake. 

"What  do  you  want?"  the  bank  officer  asked 
quietly. 

"Your  gold  and  notes.    Is  the  safe  open  ?" 

Before  the  cashier  could  reply  a  shot  rang  out. 
The  unmasked  outlaw  slewed  his  head,  to  see  the 
president  of  the  bank  firing  from  the  door  of  his 
private  office.  The  other  two  robbers  were  already 
pumping  lead  at  him.  He  staggered,  clutched  at  the 
door  jamb,  and  slowly  sank  to  the  floor  after  the  re 
volver  had  dropped  from  his  hand. 

Benson  seized  the  opportunity  to  duck  behind  his 
desk  and  drag  open  a  drawer,  but  before  his  fingers 
had  closed  on  the  weapon  within,  two  crashing  blows 
descended  with  stunning  force  on  his  head.  The 
outlaw  covering  him  had  reversed  his  heavy  re 
volver  and  clubbed  him  with  the  butt. 


MAVERICKS  229 


"That'll  hold  him  for  a  while,"  the  bandit  re 
marked,  and  dragged  the  unconscious  man  across  the 
floor  to  where  the  president  lay  huddled. 

One  of  the  masked  men,  a  lithe,  sinuous  fellow 
with  a  polka-dot  bandanna  round  his  neck,  took 
command. 

"Keep  these  men  covered,  Irwin,  while  we  get  the 
loot,"  he  ordered  the  unmasked  man. 

With  that  he  and  the  boyish-looking  fellow  who 
had  ridden  into  town  with  him,  the  latter  carrying 
three  empty  sacks,  followed  the  trembling  teller  to 
the  vault. 

No  sound  broke  the  dead  silence  except  the  loud 
ticking  of  the  bank  clock  and  an  occasional  groan 
from  the  cashier,  who  was  just  beginning  to 
return  to  consciousness.  Twice  the  man  left 
on  guard  called  down  to  those  in  the  vault  to 
hurry. 

There  was  need  of  haste.  Somebody,  attracted 
by  the  sound  of  firing,  had  come  running  to  the 
bank,  peered  in  the  big  front  window,  and  gone  fly 
ing  to  spread  the  alarm. 

Outside  a  shot  and  then  another  shattered  the  sul 
try  stillness  of  the  day.  The  man  left  on  guard  ran 
to  the  door  and  looked  out.  An  upper  window 
down  the  street  was  open,  and  from  it  a  man  with  a 
rifle  was  firing  at  the  outlaw  left  in  charge  of  the 
horses. 

The  wrangler  had  taken  refuge  behind  a  bulwark 
of  horseflesh,  and  was  returning  the  fire. 


230  MAVERICKS 


"Hurry  the  boys,  Brad !  Hell's  broke  loose !"  he 
called  to  his  companion. 

The  town  was  alarmed  and  buzzing  like  a  hornet's 
nest.  Soon  they  would  feel  the  sting1  of  the  swarm 
unless  they  beat  an  immediate  retreat.  One  sweep 
of  his  eyes  told  the  bandy-legged  fellow  as  much. 
He  could  hear  voices  crying  the  alarm,  could  see 
men  running  to  and  fro  farther  down  the  street. 
Even  in  the  second  he  stood  there  a  revolver  began 
potting  at  him. 

"Back  in  a  moment,"  he  cried  to  the  wrangler,  and 
disappeared  within  to  shout  an  urgent  warning  to 
the  looters. 

Three  men  came  up  from  the  vault,  each  carrying 
a  sack.  The  teller  was  pushed  into  the  street  first, 
and  the  rest  followed.  A  scattering  fire  began  to 
converge  at  once  upon  them.  The  roan  with  the 
white  stockings  showed  a  red  ridge  across  its  flank 
where  a  bullet  had  furrowed  a  path. 

The  teller  dropped,  wounded  by  his  friends.  Two 
of  the  robbers  loaded  the  horses,  while  the  others  an 
swered  the  townsmen.  In  the  inevitable  delay  of 
getting  started,  every  moment  seemed  an  hour  to 
the  harassed  outlaws. 

But  at  last  they  were  in  the  saddle  and  galloping 
/down  the  street,  firing  right  and  left  as  they  went. 
At  the  next  street  crossing  two  men,  one  fat  and 
the  other  lean,  came  running,  revolvers  in  hands,  to 
intercept  them.  They  were  too  late.  Before  they 
reached  the  corner  the  outlaws  had  galloped  past  in 


MAVERICKS  231 


a  cloud  of  white  dust,  still  flinging  bullets  at  the  in 
visible  foe  they  were  escaping. 

The  big  lean  cow-puncher  stopped  with  an  oath 
as  the  riders  disappeared.  "Nothing  doing,  Budd," 
he  called  to  the  fat  man.  "The  show's  moved  on 
to  a  new  stand." 

Jim  Budd,  puffing  heavily  and  glistening  with  per 
spiration,  nodded  the  answer  he  could  not  speak. 
Presently  he  got  out  what  he  wanted  to  say. 

"Notice  that  leading  hawss  on  the  nigh  side, 
Slim?"  he  asked. 

"So  you  noticed  it,  too,  Jim.  I  could  swear  to 
that  roan  with  the  four  stockings.  It's  the  hawss 
Mr.  Larrabie  Keller  mavericks  around  on,  durn  his 
forsaken  hide!  And  the  man  on  it  wore  a  polka- 
dot  bandanna.  So  does  Keller.  He'll  have  to  go 
some  to  explain  away  that.  I  reckon  the  others 
must  be  nesters  from  Bear  Creek,  too." 

"We've  got  'em  where  the  wool's  short  this  time," 
Budd  agreed.  "They  been  shootin'  around  right 
promiscuous.  If  anybody's  dead,  then  Keller  has 
put  a  rope  round  his  own  neck." 

Men  were  already  saddling  and  mounting  for  the 
first  unorganized  pursuit.  Slim  and  his  friend  joined 
these,  and  cantered  down  the  dusty  street  scarce  ten 
minutes  after  the  robbers. 

The  suburbs  of  the  town  fell  to  the  rear,  and  left 
them  in  the  fall  and  rise  of  the  foothills  that  merged 
to  the  left  in  the  wide,  flat,  shimmering  plain  of 
the  Malpais,  and  on  the  other  side  in  the  saw-toothed 


MAVERICKS 


range  that  notched  the  horizon  from  north  to  south. 
Somewhere  in  that  waste  of  cow-backed  hills,  in  that 
swell  of  endless  land  waves,  the  trail  of  the  robbers 
vanished. 

Men  rode  far  and  wide,  carrying  the  pursuit  late 
into  the  night,  but  the  lost  trail  was  not  to  be  picked 
up  again.  So  one  by  one,  or  in  pairs,  under  the 
yellow  stars,  they  drifted  back  to  Noches,  leaving 
behind  the  black  depths  of  blue-canopied  hills  that 
had  swallowed  the  fleeing  quartette. 


CHAPTER  XVIII 

BRILL  HEALY  AIRS  HIS  SENTIMENTS 

To  Phyllis,  riding  from  school  near  the  close  of 
a  hot  Friday  afternoon  along  the  old  Fort  Lincoln 
Trail,  came  the  voice  of  Brill  Healy  from  the  ridge 
above.  She  waved  to  him  the  broad-brimmed  hat 
she  was  carrying  in  her  hand,  and  he  guided  his 
pony  deftly  down  the  edge  of  the  steep  slope. 

"Been  looking  for  some  strays  down  at  Three 
Pines,"  he  explained.  "Awful  glad  I  met  you." 

"Where  were  you  going  now?"  she  asked. 

"Home,  I  reckon ;  but  I'll  ride  with  you  to  Seven 
Mile  if  you  don't  mind." 

She  looked  at  her  watch.  "It's  just  five-thirty. 
We'll  be  in  time  for  supper,  and  you  can  ride  home 
afterward." 

"I  guess  you  know  that  will  suit  me,  Phyllis,"  he 
answered,  with  a  meaning  look  from  his  dark  eyes, 

"Supper  suits  most  healthy  men  so  far  as  I've  no 
ticed,"  she  said  carelessly,  her  glance  sweeping  keenly 
over  him  before  it  passed  to  the  purple  shadowings 
that  already  edged  the  mouth  of  a  distant  canon. 

'Til  bet  it  does  when  they  can  sit  opposite  Phyl 
Sanderson  to  eat  it." 

233 


MAVERICKS 


She  frowned  a  little,  the  while  he  took  her  in  out 
of  half-shut,  smoldering  eyes,  as  one  does  a  picture 
in  a  gallery.  In  truth,  one  might  have  ridden  far  to 
find  a  living  picture  more  vital  and  more  suggestive 
of  the  land  that  had  cradled  and  reared  her. 

His  gaze  annoyed  her,  without  her  quite  knowing 
why.  "I  wish  you  wouldn't  look  at  me  all  the  time," 
she  told  him  with  the  boyish  directness  that  still  oc 
casionally  lent  a  tang  to  her  speech. 

"And  if  I  can't  help  it?"  he  laughed. 

"Fiddlesticks!  You  don't  have  to  say  pretty 
things  to  me,  Brill  Healy,"  she  told  him. 

"I  don't  say  them  because  I  have  to." 

"Then  I  wish  you  wouldn't  say  them  at  all. 
There's  no  sense  in  it  when  you've  known  a  girl 
eighteen  years." 

"Known  and  loved  her  eighteen  years.  It's  a  long 
time,  Phyl." 

Her  eyes  rained  light  derision  on  him.  "It  would 
be  if  it  were  true.  But  then  one  has  to  forget  truth 
when  one  is  sentimental,  I  reckon." 

"I'm  not  sentimental.  I  tell  you  I'm  in  love,"  he 
answered. 

"Yes,  Brill.  With  yourself.  I've  known  that  a 
long  time,  but  not  quite  eighteen  years,"  she  mocked. 

"With  you,"  he  made  answer,  and  something  of 
sullenness  had  by  this  time  crept  into  his  voice. 
"I've  got  as  much  right  to  love  you  as  any  one  else, 
haven't  I?  As  much  right  as  that  durned  waddy, 
Keller?" 


MAVERICKS  235 


Fire  flashed  in  her  eyes.  "If  you  want  to  know,  I 
despise  you  when  you  talk  that  way." 

The  anger  grew  in  him.  "What  way?  When  I 
say  anything  against  the  rustler,  do  you  mean? 
Think  I'm  blind?  Think  I  can't  see  how  you're 
running  after  him,  and  making  a  fool  of  yourself 
about  him?" 

"How  dare  you  talk  that  way  to  me?"  she  flamed, 
and  gave  her  surprised  pony  a  sharp  stroke  with  the 
quirt. 

Five  minutes  later  the  bronchos  fell  again  to  a 
walk,  and  Healy  took  up  the  conversation  where  it 
had  dropped. 

"No  use  flying  out  like  that,  Phyl.  I  only  say 
what  any  one  can  see.  Take  a  look  at  the  facts. 
You  meet  up  with  him  making  his  getaway  after 
he's  all  but  caught  rustling.  Now,  what  do 
you  do?" 

"I  don't  believe  he  was  rustling  at  all." 

"Course  you  don't  believe  it.  That  proves  just 
what  I  was  saying." 

"Jim  doesn't  believe  it,  either." 

"Yeager's  opinion  don't  have  any  weight  with  me. 
I  want  to  tell  you  right  now  that  the  boys  are  getting" 
mighty  leary  of  Jim.  He's  getting  too  thick  with 
that  Bear  Creek  bunch." 

"Brill  Healy,  I  never  saw  anybody  so  bigoted  and 
pig-headed  as  you  are,"  the  girl  spoke  out  angrily. 
"Any  one  with  eyes  in  his  head  could  see  that  Jim  is 
as  straight  as  a  string.  He  couldn't  be  crooked  if 


236  MAVERICKS 


he  tried.  Long  as  you've  known  him  I  should  think 
you  wouldn't  need  to  be  told  that." 

"Oh,  you  say  so,"  he  growled  sullenly. 

"Everybody  says  so.  Jim  Yeager  of  all  men,"  she 
scoffed.  Then,  with  a  flash  of  angry  eyes  at  him, 
"How  would  you  like  it  if  your  friends  rounded  on 
you?  By  all  accounts,  you're  not  quite  a  plaster 
saint.  I've  heard  stories." 

"What  about?" 

"Oh,  gambling  and  drinking.  What  of  it?  That's 
your  business.  One  doesn't  have  to  believe  all  the 
talk  that  is  flying  around."  She  spoke  with  a 
kind  of  fine  scorn,  for  she  was  a  girl  of  large  gener 
osities. 

"We've  all  got  enemies,  I  reckon,"  he  said  sulkily. 

"You're  Phil's  friend,  and  mine,  too,  of  course.  I 
dare  say  you  have  your  faults  like  other  men,  but 
I  don't  have  to  listen  to  people  while  they  try  to 
poison  my  mind  against  you.  What's  more,  I 
don't." 

She  had  been  agile-minded  enough  to  shift  the  at 
tack  and  put  him  upon  the  defensive,  but  now  Heary 
brought  the  question  back  to  his  original  point. 

"That's  all  very  well,  Phyl,  but  we  weren't  talk 
ing  about  me,  but  about  you.  When  you  found  this 
Keller  making  his  escape  you  buckled  in  and  helped 
him.  You  tied  up  his  wound  and  took  him  to 
Yeager's  and  lied  for  him  to  us.  That's  bad  enough, 
but  later  you  did  a  heap  worse." 

"In  saving  him  from  being  lynched  by  you  ?" 


MAVERICKS  237 


"Before  that  you  made  a  fuss  about  him  and  had 
to  tie  up  his  wounds.  I  had  a  cut  on  my  cheek,  but 
I  notice  you  didn't  tie  it  up!" 

"I'm  surprised  at  you,  Brill.  I  didn't  think  you 
were  so  small;  and  just  because  I  didn't  let  a 
wounded  man  suffer." 

"You  can  put  it  that  way  if  you  want  to,"  he 
laughed  unpleasantly. 

Her  passion  flared  again.  "You  and  your  insinu 
ations!  Who  made  you  the  judge  over  my  actions? 
You  talk  as  if  you  were  my  father.  If  you've  got  to 
reform  somebody,  let  it  be  yourself." 

"I'm  the  man  that  is  going  to  be  your  husband," 
he  said  evenly.  "That  gives  me  a  right." 

"Never!  Don't  think  it,"  she  flung  back.  "I'd 
not  marry  you  if  you  were  the  last  man  on  earth." 

"You'll  see.  I'll  not  let  a  scoundrel  like  Keller 
come  between  us.  No,  nor  Yeager,  either.  Nor 
Buck  Weaver  himself.  I  notice  he  was  right  atten 
tive  before  he  went  home." 

Resentment  burned  angrily  on  her  cheek.  "Any 
body  else?"  she  asked  quietly. 

"That's  all  for  just  now.  You're  a  natural-born 
flirt,  Phyllis.  That's  what's  the  matter  with  you/' 

"Thank  you,  Mr.  Healy.  You're  the  only  one  of 
my  friends  that  has  been  so  honest  with  me,"  she 
assured  him  sweetly. 

"I'm  the  only  one  of  them  that  is  going  to  marry 
you.  Don't  think  I'll  let  Keller  butt  in.  Not  oa 
your  life." 


238  MAVERICKS 


Her  rage  broke  bounds.  "I  never  in  my  life  heard 
of  anything  so  insolent.  Never !  You'll  not  let  me 
do  this  or  that.  Who  are  you,  Brill  Healy?" 

"I've  told  you.  I'm  the  man  that  means  to  marry 
vou,"  he  persisted  doggedly. 

"You  never  will.  I'm  not  thinking  of  marrying, 
but  when  I  do  I'll  not  ask  for  your  indorsement. 
Be  sure  of  that." 

"I'll  not  stand  it!    He'd  better  look  out!" 

"Who  do  you  mean?" 

"Keller,  that's  who  I  mean.  This  thing  is  hang 
ing  over  his  head  yet.  He's  got  to  come  through 
with  proofs  he  ain't  a  rustler,  or  he's  got  to  pull  his 
freight  out  of  the  Malpais  country." 

"And  if  he  won't?" 

"We'll  finish  that  little  business  you  interrupted," 
he  told  her,  riding  his  triumph  roughshod  over  her 
feelings. 

"You  wouldn't,  Brill !  Not  when  there  is  a  doubt 
about  it.  Jim  says  he  is  innocent,  and  I  believe  he 
is.  Surely  you  wouldn't!" 

"You'll  see." 

"If  you  do  I'll  never  speak  to  you  again!  Never, 
as  long  as  I  live ;  and  I'll  never  rest  till  I  have  you 
in  the  penitentiary  for  his  murder!"  she  cried 
tensely. 

"And  yet  you  don't  care  anything  about  him. 
You've  just  been  kind  to  him  out  of  charity,"  he 
mocked. 

For   some   minutes   they   had   seen   Seven   Mile 


MAVERICKS  239 


Ranch  lying  below  them  in  the  faint  twilight.  They 
rode  the  rest  of  the  way  in  silence,  each  of  them  too 
bitter  for  speech.  When  they  reached  the  house, 
she  swung  from  the  saddle  and  he  kept  his  seat,  for 
both  of  them  considered  her  supper  invitation  and 
his  acceptance  cancelled. 

He  bowed  ironically  and  turned  to  leave. 

"Just  a  moment,  Brill,"  called  an  excited  voice. 
"I've  got  a  piece  of  news  that  will  make  you  sit  up." 

The  speaker  was  the  young  mule  skinner  known 
as  Cuffs.  He  came  running  out  to  the  porch  and 
fired  his  bolt. 

"The  First  National  Bank  at  Noches  was  held  up 
two  hours  ago,  and  the  robbers  got  away  with  their 
loot  after  shooting  three  or  four  men!" 

"Two  hours  ago,"  the  girl  repeated.  "You  got  it 
over  the  phone,  of  course." 

"Yep.  Slim  called  me  up  just  now.  He  got  back 
right  this  minute  from  following  their  trail.  They 
lost  the  fellows  in  the  hills.  Four  of  'em,  Slim  says, 
and  he  thinks  they're  headed  this  way." 

"What  makes  him  think  so?"  asked  Healy. 

"He  figures  they  are  Bear  Creek  men.  One  of 
them  was  recognized.  It  was  that  fellow  Keller," 

"Keller!"  Phyllis  and  Healy  cried  the  word  to 
g-ether. 

Cuffs  nodded.  "Slim  says  he  can  swear  to  his 
hawss,  and  he's  plumb  sure  about  the  man,  too.  He 
wants  we  should  organize  a  posse  and  nail  them 
as  they  go  into  the  Pass  for  Bear  Creek.  He  figures 


240  MAVERICKS 


we'll  have  time  to  do  it  if  we  jump.    Noches  is  fifty- 
five  miles  from  here,  and  about  forty  from  the  Pass. 

"With  their  bronchs  loaded  they  can't  make  it  in 
much  less  than  five  hours.  That  gives  us  most  three 
hours  to  reach  the  Pass  and  stop  them.  What  think,* 
Brill?  Can  we  make  it?" 

"We'll  try  damned  hard.  I'm  not  going  to  let 
Mr.  Rustler  Keller  slip  through  my  fingers  again !" 
Healy  cried  triumphantly. 

"I  don't  believe  it  was  Bear  Creek  men  at  all. 
I'm  sure  it  wasn't  Mr.  Keller,"  Phyllis  cried,  with 
a  face  like  parchment. 

There  was  an  unholy  light  of  vindictive  triumph 
in  Healy's  face.  "We'll  show  you  about  that,  Miss 
Missouri.  Get  the  boys  together,  Cuffs.  Call  up 
Purdy  and  Jim  Budd  and  Tom  Dixon  on  the  phone. 
Rustle  up  as  many  of  the  boys  as  you  can.  Start  'em 
for  the  Pass  just  as  soon  as  they  get  here.  I'm  go 
ing  right  up  there  now.  Probably  I  can't  stop  them, 
but  I  may  make  out  who  they  are.  Notify  Buck 
Weaver,  so  he  can  head  them  off  if  they  try  to  cross 
the  Malpais.  And  get  a  move  on  you.  Hustle  the 
boys  right  along." 

And  with  that  he  put  spurs  to  his  horse  and  gal 
loped  off. 


CHAPTER  XIX 

THE  ROAN  WITH  THE  WHiTE  STOCKINGS 

Unerringly  rode  Healy  through  the  tangled  hills 
toward  a  saddle  in  the  peaks  that  flared  vivid  with 
crimson  and  mauve  and  topaz.  A  man  of  moods, 
he  knew  more  than  one  before  he  reached  the  Pass 
for  which  he  was  headed.  Now  he  rode  with  his 
eyes  straight  ahead,  his  face  creased  to  a  hard  smile 
that  brought  out  its  evil  lines.  Now  he  shook  his 
clenched  fist  into  the  air  and  cursed. 

Or  again  he  laughed  exultingly.  This  was  when 
he  remembered  that  his  rival  was  trapped  beyond 
hope  of  extrication. 

While  the  sky  tints  round  the  peaks  deepened  to 
purple  with  the  coming  night  he  climbed  canons, 
traversed  rock  ridges,  and  went  down  and  up  rough 
slopes  of  shale.  Always  the  trail  grew  more  dif 
ficult,  for  he  was  getting  closer  to  the  divide  where 
Bear  Creek  heads.  He  reached  the  upper  regions  of 
the  pine  gulches  that  seamed  the  hills  with  wooded 
crevasses,  and  so  came  at  last  to  Gregory's  Pass. 

Here,  close  to  the  yellow  stars  that  shed  a  cold 
wintry  light,  he  dismounted  and  hobbled  his  horse. 
After  which  he  found  a  soft  spot  in  the  mossy  rocks 

241 


MAVERICKS 


and  fell  asleep.  He  was  a  light  sleeper,  and  two 
hours  later  he  awakened.  Horses  were  laboring  up 
the  Pass. 

He  waited  tensely,  rifle  in  both  hands,  till  the 
heads  of  the  riders  showed  in  the  moonlight.  Three 
— four — five  of  them  he  counted.  The  men  he  saw 
were  those  he  expected,  and  he  lowered  his  rifle  at 
once. 

"Hello,  Cuffs!  Purdy!  That  you,  Tom?  Well, 
you're  too  late." 

"Too  late/'  echoed  little  Purdy. 

"Yep.  Didn't  get  here  in  time  myself  to  see  who 
any  of  them  were  except  the  last.  It  was  right 
dark,  and  they  were  most  through  before  I  reached 
here." 

"But  you  knew  one,"  Purdy  suggested. 

Healy  looked  at  him  and  nodded.  "There  were 
four  of  them.  I  crept  forward  on  top  of  that  flat 
rock  just  as  the  last  showed  up.  He  was  ridin'  a 
hawss  with  four  white  stockings." 

"A  roan,  mebbe,"  Tom  put  in  quickly. 

"You've  said  it,  Tom — a  roan,  and  it  looked  to  me 
like  it  was  wounded.  There  was  blood  all  over  the 
left  flank." 

"O'  course  Keller  was  riding  it,"  Purdy  ventured. 

"Rung  the  bell  at  the  first  shot,"  Healy  answered 
grimly. 

"The  son  of  a  gun!" 

"How  long  ago  was  it,  Brill  ?"  asked  another. 

"Must  a-been  two  hours,  anyhow." 


MAVERICKS  243 

»   j 

"No  use  us  following  them  now,  then." 

*'No  use.    They've  gone  to  cover. " 

They  turned  their  horses  and  took  the  back  trail. 
The  cow  ponies  scrambled  down  rocky  slopes  like 
cats,  and  up  steep  inclines  with  the  agility  of  moun- , 
tain  goats.    The  men  rode  in  single  file,  and  conver-j 
sation  was  limited  to  disjointed  fragments  jerked ' 
out  sow  and  again.     After  an  hour's  rough  going 
they  reached  the  foothills,  where  they  could  ride  two 
abreast.     As  they  drew  nearer  to  the  ranch  country, 
now  one  and  now  another  turned  off  with  a  shout  of 
farewell. 

Healy  accepted  Purdy's  invitation,  and  dis 
mounted  with  him  at  the  Fiddleback.  Already  the 
first  glimmering  of  dawn  flickered  faintly  from  the 
serrated  range.  The  men  unsaddled,  watered,  fed, 
and  then  walked  stiffly  to  the  house.  Within  five  min 
utes  both  of  them  lay  like  logs,  dead  to  the  world, 
until  Bess  Purdy  called  them  for  breakfast,  long 
after  the  rest  of  the  family  had  eaten. 

"What  devilment  you  been  leading  paw  into, 
Brill?"  demanded  Bess  promptly  when  he  appeared 
in  the  doorway.  "Dan  says  it  was  close  to  three 
when  you  got  home." 

She  flung  her  challenge  at  the  young  man  with  a 
flash  of  smiling  teeth.  Bess  was  seventeen,  a  romp, 
very  pretty,  and  hail-fellow-well-met  with  every 
range  rider  in  a  radius  of  thirty  miles. 

"We  been  looking  for  a  beau  for  you,  Bess," 
Healy  immediately  explained. 


244  MAVERICKS 


Miss  Purdy  tossed  her  head.  "I  can  find  one  for 
myself,  Brill  Healy,  and  I  don't  have  to  stay  out  till 
three  to  get  him,  either." 

"Come  right  to  your  door,  do  they?"  he  asked,  as 
she  helped  him  to  the  ham  and  eggs. 

"Maybe  they  do,  and  maybe  they  don't." 

"Well,  here's  one  come  right  in  the  middle  of  the 
night.  Somehow,  I  jest  couldn't  make  out  to  wait 
till  morning,  Bess." 

"Oh,  you,"  she  laughed,  with  a  demand  for  more 
of  this  sort  of  chaffing  in  her  hazel  eyes. 

At  this  kind  of  rough  give  and  take  he  was  an 
adept.  After  breakfast  he  stayed  and  helped  her 
wash  the  dishes,  romping  with  her  the  whole  time 
in  the  midst  of  gay  bursts  of  laughter  and  such 
repartee  as  occurred  to  them. 

He  found  his  young  hostess  so  entertaining  that 
he  did  not  get  away  until  the  morning  was  half  gone. 
By  the  time  he  reached  Seven  Mile  the  sun  was  past 
the  meridian,  and  the  stage  a  lessening  patch  of 
dust  in  the  distance. 

Before  he  was  well  out  of  the  saddle,  Phyllis  San 
derson  was  standing  in  the  doorway  of  the  store, 
with  a  question  in  her  eyes. 

"Well  ?"  he  forced  her  to  say  at  last. 

Leisurely  he  turned,  as  if  just  aware  of  her  pres 
ence. 

"Oh,  it's  you.     Mornin',  Phyl." 

"What  did  you  find  out?" 

"I  met  your  friend." 


MAVERICKS  245 


"What  friend?" 

"Mr.  Keller,  the  rustler  and  bank  robber,"  he 
drawled  insolently,  looking  full  in  her  face. 

"Tell  me  at  once  what  you  found  out." 

"I  found  Mr.  Keller  riding  a  roan  with  four 
white  stockings  and  a  wound  on  its  flank." 

She  caught  at  the  jamb.     "You  didn't,  Brill!" 

"I  ce'tainly  did,"  he  jeered. 

"What — what  did  you  do?"  Her  lips  were  white 
as  her  cheeks. 

"I  haven't  done  anything — yet.  You  see,  I  was 
alone.  The  other  boys  hadn't  arrived  then." 

"And  he  wasn't  alone?" 

"No;  he  had  three  friends  with  him.  I  couldn't 
make  out  whether  any  more  of  them  were  college 
chums  of  yours." 

Without  another  word,  she  turned  her  back  on 
him  and  went  into  the  store.  All  night  she  had  lain 
sleepless  and  longed  for  and  dreaded  the  coming  of 
the  day.  Over  the  wire  from  Noches  had  come  at 
dawn  fuller  details  of  the  robbery,  from  her  brother 
Phil,  who  was  spending  two  or  three  days  in  town. 

It  appeared  that  none  of  the  wounded  men  would 
die,  though  the  president  had  had  a  narrow  escape. 
Posses  had  been  out  all  night,  and  a  fresh  one  was 
just  starting  from  Noches.  It  was  generally  be 
lieved,  however,  that  the  bandits  would  be  able  to 
make  good  their  escape  with  the  loot. 

Her  father  was  absent,  making  a  round  of  his 
sheep  camps,  and  would  not  be  back  for  a  week. 


MAVERICKS 


Hence  her  hands  were  very  full  with  the  store  and 
the  ranch. 

She  busied  herself  with  the  details  of  her  work, 
nodded  now  and  again  to  one  of  the  riders  as  they 
drifted  in,  smiled  and  chatted  as  occasion  demanded, 
but  always  with  that  weight  upon  her  heart  she 
could  not  shake  off.  Now,  and  then  again,  came  to 
her  through  the  window  the  voices  of  Public  Opin 
ion  on  the  porch.  She  made  out  snatches  of  the 
talk,  and  knew  the  tide  was  running  strongly  against 
the  nester.  The  sound  of  Healy's  low,  masterful 
voice  came  insistently.  Once,  as  she  looked  through 
the  window,  she  saw  a  tilted  flask  at  his  lips. 

Suddenly  she  became  aware,  without  knowing 
why,  that  something  was  happening,  something  that 
stopped  her  heart  and  drew  her  feet  swiftly  to  the 
door. 

Conversation  had  ceased.  All  eyes  were  deflected 
to  a  pair  of  riders  coming  down  the  Bear  Creek  trail 
with  that  peculiar  jog  that  is  neither  a  run  nor  a 
walk.  They  seemed  quite  at  ease  with  the  world. 
Speech  and  laughter  rang  languid  and  carefree.  But 
as  they  swung  from  the  saddles  their  eyes  swept  the 
group  before  them  with  the  vigilance  of  searchlights 
in  time  of  war. 

Brill  Healy  leaned  forward,  his  right  hand  resting 
lightly  on  his  thigh. 

"So  you've  come  back,  Mr.  Keller,"  he  said. 

"As  you  see." 

"But  not  on  that  roan  of  yours,  I  notice/' 


MAVERICKS  247 


"You  notice  correctly,  seh." 

"Now  I  wonder  why."  Healy  spoke  with  a 
drawl,  but  his  eyes  glittered  menacingly. 

"I  expect  you  know  why,  Mr.  Healy,"  came  the 
quiet  retort 

"Meaning?" 

"That  the  roan  was  stolen  from  the  pasture  two 
nights  ago.  Do  you  happen  to  know  the  name  of  the 
thief?" 

The  cattleman  laughed  harshly,  but  behind  his 
laughter  lay  rising  anger.  "So  that's  the  story 
you're  telling,  eh?  Sounds  most  as  convincing  as 
that  yarn  about  the  pocketknife  you  picked  up." 

"I'm  not  quite  next  to  your  point.  Have  I  got  to 
explain  to  you  why  I  do  or  don't  ride  a  certain 
horse,  seh?" 

"It  ain't  necessary.  We  all  know  why.  You  ain't 
riding  it  because  there  is  a  bullet  wound  in  the  roan's 
flank  that  might  be  some  hard  to  explain." 

"I  don't  know  what  you  mean.  I  haven't  seen 
the  horse  for  two  days.  It  was  stolen,  as  I  say. 
Apparently  you  know  a  good  deal  about  that  roan. 
I'd  be  right  pleased  to  hear  what  you  know,  Mr. 
Healy." 

"Glad  to  death  to  wise  you,  Mr.  Keller.  That 
roan  was  in  Noches  yesterday,  and  you  were  on  its 
back." 

The  nester  shook  his  head.    "No,  I  reckon  not." 

Yeager  broke  in  abruptly:  "What  have  you  got 
tip  your  sleeve,  Brill?  Spit  it  out." 


248  MAVERICKS 


"Glad  to  oblige  you,  too,  Jim.  The  First  Na 
tional  at  Noches  was  held  up  yesterday,  about  half- 
past  three  or  four,  by  some  masked  men.  Slim  and 
Jim  Budd  were  around  and  recognized  that  roan  and 
its  rider." 

"You  mean " 

"You've  guessed  it,  Jim.  I  mean  that  your  friend, 
the  rustler,  is  a  bank  robber,  too." 

"Yesterday,  you  say,  at  four  o'clock?" 

"About  four,  yes." 

Yeager's  face  cleared.  "Then  that  lets  him  out. 
I  was  with  him  yesterday  all  day." 

"Any  one  else  with  him?" 

"No.     We  were  alone." 

"Where?" 

"Out  in  the  hills." 

"Didn't  happen  to  meet  a  soul  all  day  maybe  ?" 

"No;  what  of  it?" 

Healy  barked  out  again  his  hard  laugh  of  incre 
dulity.  "Go  slow,  Jim.  That  ain't  going  to  let  him 
out.  It's  going  to  let  you  in." 

Yeager  took  a  step  toward  him,  fists  clenched,  and 
eyes  flashing.  "I'll  not  stand  for  that,  Brill." 

Healy  waved  him  aside.  "I've  got  no  quarrel 
with  you,  Jim.  I  ain't  making  any  charges  against 
you  to-day.  But  when  it  comes  to  Mr.  Keller,  that's 
different."  His  gaze  shifted  to  the  nester  and  car 
ried  with  it  implacable  hostility.  "I  back  my  play. 
He's  not  only  a  rustler,  he's  a  bank  robber,  too. 


MAVERICKS  249 


What's  more,  he'll  never  leave  here  alive,  except 
with  irons  on  his  wrists!" 

"Have  you  a  warrant  for  my  arrest,  Mr.  Healy  ?" 
inquired  Keller  evenly. 

"Don't  need  one.  Furthermore,  I'd  as  lief  take 
you  in  dead  as  alive.  You  cayn't  hide  behind  a  girl's 
skirts  this  time,"  continued  Healy.  "You've  got  to 
stand  on  your  own  legs  and  take  what's  coming. 
You're  a  bad  outfit.  We  know  you  for  a  rustler, 
and  that's  enough.  But  it  ain't  all.  Yesterday  you 
gave  us  surplusage  when  you  shot  up  three  men  in 
Noches.  Right  now  I  serve  notice  that  you've 
reached  the  limit" 

"You  serve  notice,  do  you?" 

"You're  right,  I  do." 

"But  not  legal  notice,  Mr.  Healy." 

At  sight  of  his  enemy  standing  there  so  easy  and 
undisturbed,  facing  death  so  steadily  and  so  alertly, 
Brill's  passion  seethed  up  and  overflowed.  Fury 
filmed  his  eyes.  He  saw  red.  With  a  jerk,  his  re 
volver  was  out  and  smoking.  A  stop  watch  could 
scarce  have  registered  the  time  before  Keller's 
weapon  was  answering. 

But  that  tenth  part  of  a  second  made  all  the  dif 
ference.  For  the  first  heavy  bullet  from  Healy 's  .44 
had  crashed  into  the  shoulder  of  his  foe.  The  shock 
of  it  unsteadied  the  nester's  aim.  When  the  smoke 
cleared  it  showed  the  Bear  Creek  man  sinking  to  the 
ground,  and  the  right  arm  of  the  other  hanging 
limply  at  his  side. 


250  MAVERICKS 


At  the  first  sound  of  exploding  revolvers,  Phyllis 
had  grown  rigid,  but  the  fusillade  had  not  died  away 
before  she  was  flying  along  the  hall  to  the  porch. 

Brill  Healy's  voice,  cold  and  cruel,  came  to  her 
in  even  tones : 

"I  reckon  I've  done  this  job  right,  boys.  If  be 
hadn't  winged  me,  and  if  Jim  hadn't  butted  in,  I'd 
a-done  it  more  thorough,  though." 

Yeager  was  bending  over  the  man  lying  on  the 
ground.  He  looked  up  now  and  spoke  bitterly: 
"You've  murdered  an  innocent  man.  Ain't  that 
thorough  enough  for  you?" 

Then,  catching  sight  of  Cuffs  on  the  porch  of  the 
house,  Yeager  issued  orders  sharply:  "Get  on  my 
horse  and  ride  like  hell  for  Doc  Brown!  Bob,  you 
and  Luke  help  me  carry  him  into  the  house.  What 
room,  Phyl?" 

"My  room,  Jim.  Oh,  Cuffs,  hurry,  please !"  With 
that  she  was  gone  into  the  house  to  make  ready  the 
bed  for  the  wounded  man. 

Healy  picked  up  the  revolver  that  had  fallen  from 
his  hand,  and  slid  it  back  into  the  holster. 

"That's  right,  boys.  Take  him  in  and  let  Phyl 
patch  up  the  coyote  if  she  can.  I  reckon  this  time 
she'll  have  her  hands  plumb  full.  Beats  all  how  a 
decent  girl  can  take  up  with  a  ruffian  and  a  scoun 
drel." 

"That  will  be  enough  from  you,  seh,"  Yeager 
told  him  sharply. 

Purdy  nodded.     "Jim's  right,  Brill.     This  man 


MAVERICKS  251 


has  got  what  was  coming  to  him.  It  ain't  proper  to 
jump  him  right  now,  when  he's  down  and  out." 

"Awful  tender-hearted  you  boys  are.  Come  to 
that,  I've  got  a  pill  in  me,  too,  but  of  course  that 
don't  matter,"  Healy  retorted. 

"If  he  dies  you'll  have  another  in  you,  seh," 
Yeager  told  him  quietly,  meeting  his  eyes  steadily 
for  an  instant.  "Steady,  Bob.  You  take  his  feet. 
That's  right." 

They  carried  the  nester  to  the  bedroom  of  Phyl 
lis  and  laid  him  down  gently  on  the  bed.  His  eyes 
opened  and  he  looked  about  him  as  if  to  ask  where 
he  was.  He  seemed  to  understand  what  had  hap 
pened,  for  presently  he  smiled  faintly  at  his  friend 
and  said: 

"Beat  me  to  it,  Jim.  I'm  bust  up  proper  this 
time." 

"He  shot  without  giving  warning." 

Keller  moved  his  head  weakly  in  dissent.  "No, 
I  knew  just  when  he  was  going  to  draw,  but  I  had 
to  wait  for  him." 

The  big,  husky  plainsmen  undressed  him  with 
the  tenderness  of  women,  and  did  their  best  with 
;the  help  of  Aunt  Becky,  to  take  care  of  his  wounds 
temporarily.  After  these  had  been  dressed  Phyllis 
and  the  old  colored  woman  took  charge  of  the  nurs 
ing  and  dismissed  all  the  men  but  Yeager. 

It  would  be  many  hours  before  Doctor  Brown  ar 
rived,  and  it  took  no  critical  eyes  to  see  that  this 
man  was  stricken  low.  All  the  supple  strength  and 


S52  MAVERICKS 


gay  virility  were  out  of  him.  Three  of  the  bullets 
had  torn  through  him.  In  her  heavy  heart  the  girl 
believed  he  was  going  to  die.  While  Yeager  was 
eut  of  the  room  she  knelt  down  by  the  bedside,  un 
ashamed,  and  asked  for  his  life  as  she  had  never 
prayed  for  anything  before. 

By  this  time  his  fever  was  high  and  he  was  wan 
dering  in  his  head.  The  wild  look  of  delirium  was 
in  his  eyes,  and  faint  weak  snatches  of  irrelevant 
speech  on  his  lips.  His  moans  stabbed  her  heart. 
There  was  nothing  she  could  do  for  him  but  watch 
and  wait  and  pray.  But  what  little  was  to  be  done 
in  the  way  of  keeping  his  hot  head  cool  with  wet 
towels  her  own  hands  did  jealously.  Jim  and  Aunt 
Becky  waited  on  her  while  she  waited  on  the  sick 
man. 

About  midnight  the  doctor  rode  up.  All  day  and 
most  of  the  night  before  he  had  been  in  the  saddle. 
Cuffs  had  found  him  across  the  divide,  nearly  forty 
miles  away,  working  over  a  boy  who  had  been  bit 
ten  by  a  rattlesnake.  But  he  brought  into  the  sick 
room  with  him  that  manner  of  cheerful  confidence 
which  radiates  hope.  You  could  never  have 
guessed  that  he  was  very  tired,  nor,  after  the  first 
few  minutes,  did  he  know  it  himself.  He  lost  him 
self  in  his  case,  flinging  himself  into  the  breach  to 
turn  the  tide  of  what  had  been  a  losing  battle. 


CHAPTER   XX 

YEAGER  RIDES  TO  NOCHES 

Jim  Yeager  had  not  watched  through  the  long 
day  and  night  with  Phyllis  without  discovering  how 
deeply  her  feelings  were  engaged.  His  unobtru 
sive  readiness  and  his  constant  hopefulness  had 
been  to  her  a  tower  of  strength  during  the  quiet, 
dreadful  hours  before  the  doctor  came. 

Once,  during  the  night,  she  had  followed  him 
into  the  dark  hall  when  he  went  out  to  get  some 
fresh  cold  water,  and  had  broken  down  completely. 

"Is  he — is  he  going  to  die?"  she  besought  of  him, 
bursting  into  tears  for  the  first  time. 

Jim  patted  her  shoulder  awkwardly.  "Now, 
don't  you,  Phyl.  You  got  to  buck  up  and  help  pull 
him  through.  Course  he's  shot  up  a  heap,  but  then 
a  man  like  him  can  stand  a  lot  of  lead  in  his  body. 
There  aren't  any  of  these  wounds  in  a  vital  place. 
Chief  trouble  is  he's  lost  so  much  blood.  That's 
where  his  clean  outdoor  life  comes  in  to  help  build 
him  up.  I'll  bet  Doc  Brown  pulls  him  through." 

"Are  you  just  saying  that,  Jim,  or  do  you  really 
think  so?" 

"I'm  saying  it,  and  I  think  it.     There's  a  whole 


254  MAVERICKS 


lot  in  gaming  a  thing  out.  What  we've  got  to  do  is 
to  think  he's  going  to  make  it.  Once  we  give  up, 
it  will  be  all  off." 

"You  are  such  a  help,  Jim,"  she  sighed,  dabbing 
at  her  eyes  with  her  little  handkerchief.  "And 
you're  the  best  man." 

"That's  right.  I'll  be  the  best  man  when  we  pull 
off  that  big  wedding  of  yours  and  his." 

Her  heart  went  out  to  him  with  a  rush.  "You're 
the  only  friend  both  of  us  have,"  she  cried  impul 
sively. 

With  the  coming  of  Doctor  Brown,  Jim  resigned 
his  post  of  comforter  in  chief,  but  he  stayed  at 
Seven  Mile  until  the  crisis  was  past  and  the  patient 
on  the  mend.  Next  day  Slim,  Budd,  and  Phil  San 
derson  rode  in  from  Noches.  They  were  caked 
with  the  dust  of  their  fifty-mile  ride,  but  after  they 
had  washed  and  eaten,  Yeager  had  a  long  talk  with 
them.  He  learned,  among  other  things,  that  Healy 
had  telephoned  Sheriff  Gill  that  Keller  was  lying 
wounded  at  Seven  Mile,  and  that  the  sheriff  was  ex 
pecting  to  follow  them  in  a  few  hours. 

"Coming  to  arrest  Brill  for  assault  with  intent 
to  kill,  I  reckon,"  Yeager  suggested  dryly. 

Phil  turned  on  him  petulantly.     "What's  the  use- 
of  you  trying  to  get  away  with  that  kind  of  talk, 
Jim?    This  fellow  Keller  was  recognized  as  one  of 
the  robbers." 

"That  ain't  what  Slim  has  just  been  telling,  Phil. 
He  says  he  recognized  the  hawss,  and  thinks  it  was 


MAVERICKS  255 


Keller  in  the  saddle.  Now,  I  don't  think  anything 
about  it.  I  know  Keller  was  with  me  in  the  hills 
when  this  hold-up  took  place." 

"You're  his  friend,  Jim,"  the  boy  told  him  sig 
nificantly. 

"You  bet  I  am.  But  I  ain't  a  bank  robber,  if 
that's  what  you  mean,  Phil." 

His  clear  eyes  chiselled  into  those  of  the  boy  and 
dominated  him. 

"I  didn't  say  you  were,"  Phil  returned  sulkily. 
"But  I  reckon  we  all  recall  that  you  lied  for  him 
once.  Whyfor  would  it  be  a  miracle  if  you  did 
again  ?" 

Jim  might  have  explained,  but  did  not,  that  it 
was  not  for  Keller  he  had  lied.  He  contented  him 
self  with  saying  that  the  roan  with  the  white 
stockings  had  been  stolen  from  the  pasture  before 
the  holdup.  He  happened  to  know,  because  he  was 
spending  the  night  in  Keller's  shack  with  him  at 
the  time. 

Slim  cut  in,  with  drawling  sarcasm :  "You've  got 
a  plumb  perfect  alibi  figured  out  for  him,  Jim.  I 
reckon  you've  forgot  that  Brill  saw  him  riding 
through  the  Pass  with  the  rest  of  his  outfit." 

"Brill  says  so.  I  say  he  didn't,"  returned  Yeager 
calmly. 

Toward  evening  Gill  arrived  and  formally  put 
Keller  under  arrest.  Practically,  it  amounted  only 
to  the  precaution  of  leaving  a  deputy  at  the  ranch 
as  a  watch,  for  one  glance  had  told  the  sheriff  that 


256  MAVERICKS 


the  wounded  man  would  not  be  in  condition  to 
travel  for  some  time. 

It  was  the  following  day  that  Yeager  saddled  and 
said  good-by  to  Phyllis. 

"I'm  going  to  Noches  to  see  if  I  cayn't  find  out 
something.  It  don't  look  reasonable  to  me  that 
those  fellows  could  disappear,  bag  and  baggage, 
into  a  hole  and  draw  it  in  after  them." 

"What  about  Brill's  story  that  he  saw  them  at 
the  Pass?"  the  girl  asked. 

"He  may  have  seen  four  men,  but  he  ce'tainly 
didn't  see  Larrabie  Keller.  My  notion  is,  Brill  lied 
out  of  whole  cloth,  but  of  course  I'm  not  in  a  posi 
tion  to  prove  it.  Point  is,  why  did  he  lie  at  all?" 

Phyllis  blushed.     "I  think  I  know,  Jim." 

Yeager  smiled.  "Oh,  I  know  that.  But  that 
ain't,  to  my  way  of  thinking,  motive  enough.  I 
mean  that  a  white  man  doesn't  try  to  hang  an 
other  just  because  he — well,  because  he  cut  him 
out  of  his  girl." 

"I  never  was  his  girl,"  Phyllis  protested. 

"I  know  that,  but  Brill  couldn't  get  it  through  his 
thick  head  till  a  stone  wall  fell  on  him  and  give  him 
a  hint." 

"What  other  motive  are  you  thinking  of,  Jim?' 

He  hesitated.  "I've  just  been  kinder  milling 
things  around.  Do  you  happen  to  know  right  when 
you  met  Brill  the  day  of  the  robbery?" 

"Yes.  I  looked  at  my  watch  to  see  if  we  would 
be  in  time  for  supper.  It  was  five-thirty." 


MAVERICKS  25T 


"And  the  robbery  was  at  three.  The  fellows 
didn't  get  out  of  town  till  close  to  three-thirty,  I 
reckon,"  he  mused  aloud. 

"What  has  that  got  to  do  with  it?  You  don't 

mean  that "  She  stopped  with  parted  lips  and 

eyes  dilating. 

He  shook  his  head.  "I've  got  no  right  to  mean 
that,  Phyllie.  Even  if  I  did  have  a  kind  of  notion 
that  way  I'd  have  to  give  it  up.  Brill's  got  a  steel- 
bound,  copper-riveted  alibi.  He  couldn't  have  beeh 
at  Noches  at  tkree  o'clock  and  with  you  two  hours 
later,  fifty-five  miles  from  there.  No  hawss  alive 
could  do  it." 

"But,  Jim — why,  it's  absurd,  anyway.  We've 
known  Brill  always.  He  couldn't  be  that  kind  of  a 
man.  How  could  he?" 

"I  didn't  say  he  could,"  returned  her  friend  non- 
committally.  "But  when  it  comes  to  knowing  him, 
what  do  you  know  about  him — or  about  me,  say: 
I  might  be  a  low-lived  coyote  without  you  knowing 
it.  I  might  be  all  kinds  of  a  devil.  A  good  girl 
like  you  wouldn't  know  it  if  I  set  out  to  keep  it 
still." 

"I  could  tell  by  looking  at  you,"  she  answered 
promptly. 

"Yes,  you  could,"  he  derided  good-naturedly, 
"How  would  you  know  it?  Men  don't  squeal  on 
each  other." 

"Do  you  mean  that  Brill  isn't — what  we've  al 
ways  thought  him?" 


258  MAVERICKS 


"I'm  not  talking  about  Brill,  but  about  Jim  Yea- 
ger,"  he  evaded.  "He'd  hate  to  have  you  know 
everything  that's  mean  and  off  color  he  ever  did." 

"I  believe  you  must  have  robbed  the  bank  your 
self,  Jim,"  she  laughed.  "Are  you  a  rustler,  too?" 

He  echoed  her  laugh  as  he  swung  to  the  saddle. 
"I'm  not  giving  myself  away  any  more  to-day." 

Brill  Healy  rode  up,  his  arm  in  a  sling.  Deep 
rings  of  dissipation  or  of  sleeplessness  were  under 
his  eyes.  He  looked  first  at  Yeager  and  then  at  the 
young  woman,  with  an  ugly  sneer.  "How's  your 
dear  patient,  Phyl  ?" 

"He  is  better,  Brill,"  she  answered  quietly,  with 
her  eyes  full  on  him.  "That  is,  we  hope  he  is  bet 
ter.  The  doctor  isn't  quite  sure  yet." 

"Some  of  us  don't  hope  it  as  much  as  the  rest  of 
us,  I  reckon." 

She  said  nothing,  but  he  read  in  her  look  a  con 
tempt  that  stung  like  the  lash  of  a  whip. 

"He'll  be  worse  again  before  I'm  through  with 
him,"  the  man  cried,  with  a  furious  oath. 

Phyllis  measured  him  with  her  disdainful  eye, 
and  dismissed  him.  She  stepped  forward  and 
shook  hands  with  Yeager. 

"Take  care  of  yourself,  Jim,  and  don't  spare  any 
expense  that  is  necessary,"  she  said. 

For  a  moment  she  watched  her  friend  canter  off, 
then  turned  on  her  heel,  and  passed  into  the  house, 
utterly  regardless  of  Healy. 

Yeager  reached  Noches  late,  for  he  had  unsad- 


MAVERICKS  259 


died  and  let  his  horse  rest  at  Willow  Springs  dur 
ing  the  heat  of  the  broiling  day. 

After  he  had  washed  and  had  eaten,  Yeager 
drifted  to  the  Log  Cabin  Saloon  and  gambling 
house.  Here  was  gathered  the  varied  and  turbulent 
life  of  the  border  country.  Dark-skinned  Mexi 
cans  rubbed  shoulders  with  range  riders  baked  al 
most  as  brown  by  the  relentless  sun.  Pima  Indians 
and  Chinamen  and  negroes  crowded  round  the  faro 
and  dice  tables.  Games  of  monte  and  chuckaluck 
had  their  devotees,  as  had  also  roulette  and  poker. 

It  was  a  picturesque  scene  of  strong,  untamed, 
self-reliant  frontiersmen.  Some  of  them  were  out 
laws  and  criminals,  and  some  were  as  simple  and 
tender-hearted  as  children.  But  all  had  become  ac 
customed  to  a  life  where  it  is  possible  at  any  mo 
ment  to  be  confronted  with  sudden  death. 

A  man  playing  the  wheel  dropped  a  friendly  nod. 
at  Jim.  He  waited  till  the  wheel  had  stopped  and 
saw  the  man  behind  it  rake  in  his  chips  before  he 
spoke.  Then,  as  he  scattered  more  chips  here  and 
there  over  the  board,  he  welcomed  Yeager  with  a 
whoop. 

"Hi  there,  Malpais!  What's  doing  in  the  hills 
these  yere  pleasant  days?" 

"A  little  o'  nothin',  Sam.  The  way  they're  tell 
ing  it  you  been  having  all  the  fun  down  here." 

Sam  Wilcox  gathered  the  chips  pushed  toward 
him  by  the  croupier  and  cashed  in.  He  was  a  heavy- 
set,  bronzed  man,  with  a  bleached,  straw-colored 


260  MAVERICKS 


mustache.  Taking  his  friend  by  the  arm,  he  led 
him  to  one  end  of  the  bar  that  happened  for  the 
moment  to  be  deserted. 

"Have  something,  Jim.  Oh,  I  forgot.  You're 
ridin'  the  water  wagon  and  don't  irrigate.  More'n 
I  can  say  for  some  of  you  Malpais  lads.  Some  of 
them  was  in  here  right  woozy  the  other  day." 

"The  boys  will  act  the  fool  when  they  hit  town. 
Who  was  it?" 

"Slim  and  Budd  and  young  Sanderson." 

"Was  Phil  Sanderson  drunk?"  Yeager  asked, 
hardly  surprised,  but  certainly  troubled. 

"I  ain't  sure  he  was,  but  he  was  makin'  the  fur 
fly  at  the  wheel,  there.  Must  have  dropped  two 
hundred  dollars." 

Jim's  brows  knit  in  a  puzzled  frown.  He  was 
wondering  how  the  boy  had  come  by  so  much 
money  at  a  time. 

"Who  was  he  trailin'  with?" 

"With  a  lad  called  Spiker,  that  fair-haired  guy 
sitting  in  at  the  poker  table.  He's  another  young 
ster  that  has  been  dropping  money  right  plentiful." 

"Who  is  he?" 

"He's  what  they  call  a  showfer.  He  runs  one  o* 
these  automobiles;  takes  parties  out  in  it." 

"Been  here  long?  Looks  kind  o'  like  a  tinhorn 
gambler." 

"Not  long.  He's  thick  with  some  of  you  Malpais 
gents.  I've  seen  him  with  Healy  a  few." 

"Oh,  with  Healy." 


MAVERICKS  261 


Jim  regarded  the  sportive  youth  more  attentively, 
and  presently  dropped  into  a  vacant  seat  beside 
him,  buying  twenty  dollars  worth  of  chips. 

Spiker  was  losing  steadily.  He  did  not  play 
either  a  careful  or  a  brilliant  game.  Jim,  playing 
very  conservatively,  and  just  about  holding  his  own, 
listened  to  the  angry  bursts  and  the  boastings  of 
the  man  next  him,  and  drew  his  own  conclusions  as 
to  his  character.  After  a  couple  of  hours  of  play 
the  Malpais  man  cashed  in  and  went  back  to  the 
hotel  where  he  was  putting  up. 

He  slept  till  late,  ate  breakfast  leisurely,  and  after 
an  hour  of  looking  over  the  paper  and  gossiping 
with  the  hotel  clerk  about  the  holdup  he  called 
casually  upon  the  deputy  sheriff.  Only  one  thing  of 
importance  he  gleaned  from  him.  This  was  that 
the  roan  with  the  white  stockings  had  been  picked 
up  seven  miles  from  Noches  the  morning  after  the 
holdup. 

This  put  a  crimp  in  Healy's  story  of  having  seen 
Keller  in  the  Pass  on  the  animal.  Furthermore,  it 
opened  a  new  field  for  surmise.  Brill  Healy  said 
that  he  had  seen  the  horse  with  a  wound  in  its  flank. 
Now,  how  did  he  know  it  was  wounded,  since  Slim 
had  not  mentioned  this  when  he  had  telephoned? 
It  followed  that  if  he  had  not  seen  the  broncho — 
and  that  he  had  seen  it  was  a  sheer  physical  im 
possibility — he  could  know  of  the  wound  only  be 
cause  he  was  already  in  close  touch  with  what  had 
happened  at  Noches. 


262  MAVERICKS 


But  how  could  he  be  aware  of  what  was  happen 
ing  fifty  miles  away?  That  was  the  sticker  Jim 
could  not  get  around.  His  alibi  was  just  as  good 
as  that  of  the  horse.  Both  of  them  rested  on  the 
assumption  that  neither  could  cover  the  ground  be 
tween  two  given  points  in  a  given  time.  There  was 
one  other  possible  explanation — that  Healy  had 
been  in  telephonic  communication  with  Noches  be 
fore  he  met  Phyllis.  But  this  seemed  to  Jim  very 
unlikely,  indeed.  By  his  own  story  he  had  been  cut 
ting  trail  all  afternoon  and  had  seen  nobody  until 
he  met  Phyllis. 

Yeager  called  on  the  cashier,  Benson,  later  in  the 
day,  and  had  a  talk  with  him  and  with  the  presi 
dent,  Johnson.  Both  of  these  were  now  back  at 
their  posts,  though  the  latter  was  not  attempting 
much  work  as  yet.  Jim  talked  also  with  many 
others.  Some  of  them  had  theories,  but  none  of 
them  had  any  new  facts  to  advance. 

The  young  cattleman  put  up  at  the  same  hotel  as 

Spike  r  and  struck  up  a  sort  of  intimacy  with  him. 

They  sometimes  loafed  together  during  the  day,  and 

at  night  they  were  always  to  be  seen  side  by  side 

,'at  the  poker  table. 


CHAPTER   XXI 

BREAKING  DOWN  AN  ALIBI 

Keller  found  convalescence  under  the  superin 
tendence  of  Miss  Sanderson  one  of  the  great  pleas 
ures  of  his  life.  Her  school  was  out  for  the  sum 
mer  and  she  was  now  at  home  all  day.  He  had 
never  before  found  time  to  be  lazy,  and  what 
dreaming  he  had  done  had  been  in  the  stress  of 
action.  Now  he  might  lie  the  livelong  day  and  not 
too  obviously  watch  her  brave,  frank  youth  as  she 
moved  before  him  or  sat  reading.  For  the  first 
time  in  his  life  he  was  in  love! 

But  as  the  nester  grew  better  he  perceived  that 
she  was  withdrawing  herself  from  him.  He  puz 
zled  over  the  reason,  not  knowing  that  her  brother, 
Phil,  was  troubling  her  with  flings  and  accusations 
thrown  out  bitterly  because  his  boyish  concern  for 
her  good  name  could  find  no  gentler  way  to  express 
Itself. 

"They're  saying  you're  in  love  with  the  fellow — • 
and  him  headed  straight  for  the  pen,"  he  charged. 

"Who  says  it,  Phil  ?"  she  asked  quietly,  but  with 
flaming  cheeks. 

He  smote  his  fist  on  the  table.  "It  don't  matter 
268 


264  MAVERICKS 


who  says  it.  You  keep  away  from  him.  Let  Aunt 
Becky  nurse  him.  You  haven't  any  call  to  wait  on 
him,  anyhow.  If  he's  got  to  be  nursed  by  one  of 
the  family,  I'll  do  it." 

He  tried  to  keep  his  word,  and  as  a  result  of  it 
the  wounded  man  had  to  endure  his  sulky  presence 
occasionally.  Keller  was  man  of  the  world  enough 
to  be  amused  at  his  attitude,  and  yet  was  interested 
enough  in  the  lad's  opinion  of  him  to  keep  always 
an  even  mood  of  cheerful  friendliness.  There  was 
a  quantity  of  winsome  camaraderie  about  him  that 
won  its  way  with  Phil  in  spite  of  himself.  More* 
over,  all  the  boy  in  him  responded  to  the  nester's 
gameness,  the  praises  of  which  he  heard  on  all 
sides. 

"I  see  you  have  quite  made  up  your  mind  I'm  a 
skunk,"  the  wounded  man  told  him  amiably. 

"You  robbed  the  bank  at  Noches  and  shot  up 
three  men  that  hadn't  hurt  you  any,"  the  boy  re 
torted  defiantly. 

"Not  unless  Jim  Yeager  is  a  liar." 

"Oh,  Jim!  No  use  going  into  that.  He's  your 
friend.  I  don't  know  why,  but  he  is." 

"And  you're  Brill  Healy's.  That's  why  you 
won't  tell  that  he  was  carrying  your  sister's  knife 
the  day  I  saw  you  and  him  first." 

The  boy  flashed  toward  the  bed  startled  eyes. 
Keller  was  looking  at  him  very  steadily. 

"Who  says  he  had  Phyl's  knife?" 

"Hadn't  he?" 


MAVERICKS  265 


"What  difference  does  that  make,  anyhow?  I 
hear  you're  telling  that  you  found  the  knife  beside 
the  dead  cow.  You  ain't  got  any  proof,  have  you?" 
challenged  young  Sanderson  angrily. 

"No  proof,"  admitted  the  other. 

"Well,  then."  Phil  chewed  on  it  for  a  moment 
before  he  broke  out  again:  "I  reckon  you  cayn't 
talk  away  the  facts,  Mr.  Keller.  We  caught  you 
in  the  act — caught  you  good.  By  your  own  story, 
you're  the  man  we  came  on.  What's  the  use  of  you 
trying  to  lay  it  on  me  and  Brill  ?" 

"Am  I  trying  to  lay  it  on  you?" 

"Looks  like.  On  Brill,  anyhow.  There's  noth 
ing  doing.  Folks  in  this  neck  of  the  woods  is  for 
him  and  against  you.  Might  as  well  sabe  that  right 
now,"  the  lad  blurted. 

"I  sabe  that  some  of  them  are,"  the  other 
laughed,  but  not  with  quite  his  usual  debonair  gay- 
ety.  For  he  did  not  at  all  like  the  way  things 
looked. 

But  though  Phil  had  undertaken  to  do  all  the 
nursing  that  needed  to  be  done  by  the  family,  he 
was  too  much  of  an  outdoors  dweller  to  confine 
himself  for  long  to  the  four  walls  of  a  room.  Be 
sides,  he  was  often  called  away  by  the  work  of  look 
ing  after  the  cattle  of  the  ranch.  Moreover,  both 
he  and  his  father  were  away  a  good  deal  arranging1 
for  the  disposal  of  their  sheep.  At  these  times  her 
patient  hoped,  and  hoped  in  vain,  that  Phyllis  would 
take  her  brother's  place. 


266  MAVERICKS 


Came  a  day  when  Keller  could  stand  it  no  longer. 
In  Becky's  absence,  he  made  shift  to  dress  himself, 
bit  by  bit,  lying  on  the  bed  in  complete  exhaustion 
after  the  effort  of  getting  into  each  garment.  He 
could  scarce  finish  what  he  had  undertaken,  but  at 
last  he  was  clothed  and  ready  for  the  journey. 
Leaning  on  a  walking  stick,  he  dragged  himself  into 
the  passage  and  out  to  the  porch,  where  Phyllis  was 
sitting  alone. 

She  gave  a  startled  cry  at  sight  of  him  standing 
there,  haggard  and  white,  his  clothes  hanging  on 
his  gaunt  frame  much  as  if  he  had  been  a  skeleton. 

"What  are  you  doing?"  she  cried,  running  to  his 
aid. 

After  she  had  got  him  into  her  chair,  he  smiled 
up  at  her  and  panted  weakly.  He  was  leaning  back 
in  almost  complete  exhaustion. 

"You  wouldn't  come  to  see  me,  so — I  came — - 
to  see  you,"  he  gasped  out,  at  last. 

"But — you  shouldn't  have!  You  might  have 
done  yourself  a  great  injury.  It's — it's  criminal  of 
you." 

"I  wanted  to  see  you/'  he  explained  simply. 

"Why  didn't  you  send  for  me?" 

"There  wasn't  anybody  to  send.  Besides,  you 
wouldn't  have  stayed.  You  never  do,  now." 

She  looked  at  him,  then  looked  away.  "You 
don't  need  me  now — and  I  have  my  work  to  do/' 

"But  I  do  need  you,  Phyllie." 

It  was  the  first  time  he  had  ever  spoken  the  dv 


MAVERICKS  JW7 


minutive  to  her.  He  let  out  the  word  lingeringly, 
as  if  it  were  a  caress.  The  girl  felt  the  color  floMt 
beneath  her  dusky  tan.  She  changed  the  subject 
abruptly. 

"None  of  the  boys  are  here.  How  am  I  to  get 
you  back  to  your  room?" 

"I'll  roll  a  trail  back  there  presently,  ma'am/' 

She  looked  helplessly  round  the  landscape,  in 
hope  of  seeing  some  rider  coming  to  the  store.  But 
nobody  was  in  sight. 

"You  had  no  business  to  come.  It  might  have 
killed  you.  I  thought  you  had  better  sense,"  she 
reproached. 

"I  wanted  to  see  you,"  he  parroted  again. 

Like  most  young  women,  she  knew  how  to  ig 
nore  a  good  deal.  "You'll  have  to  lean  on  me.  Do 
you  think  you  can  try  it  now?" 

"If  I  go,  will  you  stay  with  me  and  talk?"  he 
bargained. 

"I  have  my  work  to  do,"  she  frowned. 

"Then  I'll  stay  here,  thank  you  kindly."  He 
settled  back  into  the  chair  and  let  her  have  his  gay 
smile.  Nevertheless,  she  saw  that  his  lips  were 
colorless. 

"Yes,  I'll  stay,"  she  conceded,  moved  by  her  anx 
iety. 

"Every  day?" 

"We'll  see." 

"An  right,"  he  laughed  weakly.  "If  you  don't 
come,  1*11  take  a  pas  ear  and  go  look  for  you." 


268  MAVERICKS 


She  helped  him  to  his  feet  and  they  stood  for 
a  moment  facing  each  other. 

"You  must  put  your  hand  on  my  shoulder  and 
lean  hard  on  me,"  she  told  him. 

But  when  she  saw  the  utter  weakness  of  him, 
her  arm  slipped  round  his  waist  and  steadied  him. 

"Now  then.     Not  too  fast,"  she  ordered  gently. 

They  went  back  very  slowly,  his  weight  leaning 
on  her  more  at  every  step.  When  they  reached  his 
room,  Keller  sank  down  on  the  bed,  utterly  ex 
hausted.  Phyllis  ran  for  a  cordial  and  put  it  to  his 
lips.  It  was  some  time  before  he  could  even  speak. 

"Thank  you.  I  ain't  right  husky  yet,"  he  ad 
mitted. 

"You  mustn't  ever  do  such  a  thing  again,"  she 
charged  him. 

"Not  ever?" 

"Not  till  the  doctor  says  you're  strong  enough  to 


move." 


"I  won't — if  you'll  come  and  see  me  every  day," 
he  answered  irrepressibly. 

So  every  afternoon  she  brought  a  book  or  her 
sewing,  and  sat  by  him,  letting  Phil  storm  about 
it  as  much  as  he  liked.  These  were  happy  hours. 
Neither  spoke  of  love,  but  the  air  was  electrically 
full  of  it.  They  laughed  together  a  good  deal  at 
remarks  not  intrinsically  humorous,  and  again 
there  were  conversational  gaps  so  highly  charged 
that  she  would  rush  at  them  as  a  reckless  hunter 
takes  a  fence. 


MAVERICKS  269 


As  he  got  better,  he  would  be  propped  up  in  bed, 
and  Aunt  Becky  would  bring  in  tea  for  them  both. 
If  there  had  been  any  corner  of  his  heart  unwon  it 
would  have  surrendered  then.  For  to  a  bachelor 
the  acme  of  bliss  is  to  sit  opposite  a  girl  of  whom 
he  is  very  fond,  and  to  see  her  buttering  his  bread 
and  pouring  his  tea  with  that  air  of  domesticity 
that  visualizes  the  intimacy  of  which  he  has 
dreamed.  Keller  had  played  a  lone  hand  all  his 
turbulent  life,  and  this  was  like  a  glimpse  of  Heaven 
let  down  to  earth  for  his  especial  benefit. 

It  was  on  such  an  occasion  that  Jim  Yeager 
dropped  in  on  them  upon  his  return  from  Noches. 
He  let  his  eyes  travel  humorously  over  the  room 
before  he  spoke. 

"Whyfor  don't  I  ever  have  the  luck  to  be  shot 
up?"  he  drawled. 

"Oh,  you  Jim !"  Keller  called  a  greeting  from  the 
bed.  Phyllis  came  forward,  and,  with  a  heightened 
color,  shook  hands  with  him. 

"You'll  sit  down  with  us  and  have  some  tea, 
Jim,"  she  told  him. 

"Me?  I'm  no  society  Willie.  Don't  know  the 
game  at  all,  Phyl.  Besides,  I'm  carrying  half  of 
Arizona  on  my  clothes.  It's  some  dusty  down  in 
the  Malpais." 

Nevertheless  he  sat  down,  and,  over  the  biscuits 
and  jam,  told  the  meagre  story  of  what  he  had 
found  out. 

The  finding  of  the  stocking- footed  roan  near 


270  MAVERICKS 


Noches  so  soon  after  the  robbery  disposed  of  Healy's 
lie,  though  it  did  not  prove  that  Keller  had  not 
been  riding  it  at  the  time  of  the  holdup.  As  for 
Healy,  Yeager  confessed  he  saw  no  way  of  impli 
cating  him.  His  alibi  was  just  as  good  as  that  of 
any  of  them. 

But  there  was  one  person  his  story  did  involve, 
and  that  was  Spiker,  the  tinhorn,  tenderfoot  sport 
of  Noches.  During  the  absence  of  this  young  man 
at  the  gaming  table,  Jim  and  his  friend,  Sam 
Weaver,  had  got  into  his  room  with  a  skeleton  key 
and  searched  it  thoroughly.  They  had  found,  in  a 
suit  case,  a  black  mask,  a  pair  of  torn  and  shiny 
chaps,  a  gray  shirt,  a  white,  dusty  sombrero,  much 
the  worse  for  wear,  and  over  three  hundred  dol 
lars  in  bills. 

"What  does  he  pretend  his  business  is?"  Keller 
asked,  when  Jim  had  finished. 

"Allows  he's  a  showfer.  Drives  folks  around  in 
a  gasoline  wagon.  That's  the  theory,  but  I  notice 
he  turned  down  a  mining  man  who  wanted  to  get 
him  to  run  him  into  the  hills  on  Monday.  Said  he 
hadn't  time.  The  showfer  biz  is  a  Huff,  looks  like." 

The  nester  made  no  answer.  His  eyes,  narrowed 
to  slits,  were  gazing  out  of  the  window  absently. 
Presently  he  came  from  deep  thought  to  ask  Yea 
ger  to  hand  him  the  map  he  would  find  in  his  inside 
coat  pocket.  This  he  spread  out  on  the  bed  in  front 
of  him.  When  at  last  he  looked  up  he  was  smiling. 


MAVERICKS  271 


"I  reckon  it's  no  bluff,  Jim.  He's  a  chauffeur, 
all  right,  but  lie  only  drives  out  select  outfits." 

"Meaning?" 

The  map  lying  in  front  of  Keller  was  one  of 
Noches  County.  The  nester  located,  with  his  in- 
'dex  finger,  the  town  of  that  name,  and  traced  the 
road  from  it  to  Seven  Mile.  Then  his  finger  went 
back  to  Noches,  and  followed  the  old  military  road 
to  Fort  Lincoln,  a  route  which  almost  paralleled 
the  one  to  the  ranch. 

The  eyes  of  Phyllis  were  already  shining  with  ex 
citement.  She  divined  what  was  coming. 

"Is  this  road  still  travelled,  Jim?" 

"It  goes  out  to  the  old  fort.  Nobody  has  lived 
there  for  most  thirty  years.  I  reckon  the  road 
ain't  travelled  much." 

"Strikes  through  Del  Oro  Canon,  doesn't  it,  right 
after  it  leaves  Noches?" 

"Yep." 

"I  reckon,  Jim,  your  friend,  Spiker,  drove  a  party 
out  that  way  the  afternoon  of  the  holdup,"  the 
nester  drawled  smilingly.  "By  the  way,  is  your 
friend  in  the  lockup?" 

"He  sure  is.  The  deputy  sheriff  arrested  him 
same  night  we  went  through  his  room." 

"Good  place  for  him.  Well,  it  looks  like  we  got 
Mr.  Healy  tagged  at  last.  I  don't  mean  that  we've 
got  the  proof,  but  we  can  prove  he  might  have 
been  on  the  job." 


MAVERICKS 


"I  don't  see  it,  Larry.  I  reckon  my  head's  right 
thick." 

"I  see  it,"  spoke  up  Phyllis  quickly. 

Keller  smiled  at  her.    ''You  tell  him." 

"Don't  you  see,  Jim  ?  The  motor  car  must  have 
been  waiting  for  them  somewhere  after  they  had 
robbed  the  bank,"  she  explained. 

"At  the  end  of  Del  Oro  Canon,  likely,"  sug 
gested  the  nester. 

She  nodded  eagerly.  "Yes,  they  would  get  into 
the  canon  before  the  pursuit  was  in  sight.  That  is 
why  they  were  not  seen  by  Slim  and  the  rest  of 
the  posse." 

Yeager  looked  at  her,  and  as  he  looked  the  cer 
tainty  of  it  grew  on  him.  His  mind  began  to  piece 
out  the  movements  of  the  outlaws  from  the  time 
they  left  Noches.  "That's  right,  Phyl.  His  car 
is  what  he  calls  a  hummer.  It  can  go  like  blazes — 
forty  miles  an  hour,  he  told  me.  And  the  old  fort 
road  is  a  dandy,  too." 

"They  would  leave  the  automobile  at  Willow 
Creek,  and  cut  across  to  the  Pass,"  she  hazarded. 

"All  but  Brill.  Being  bridlewise,  he  rode  right 
for  Seven  Mile  to  make  dead  sure  of  his  alibi, 
whilst  the  others  made  their  getaway  with  the  loot. 
When  he  happened  to  meet  you  on  the  way,  he 
would  be  plumb  tickled,  for  that  cinched  things 
proper  for  him.  You  would  be  a  witness  nobody 
could  get  away  from." 

"And  what  about  their  hawsses  ?    Did  they  bring 


MAVERICKS  273 


the  bronchs  in  the  car,  too?"  drawled  Keller,  an 
amused  flicker  in  his  eyes. 

The  others,  who  had  been  swimming  into  their 
deductions  so  confidently,  were  brought  up  abruptly. 
Phyllis  glanced  at  Jim  and  looked  foolish. 

"The  bronchs  couldn't  tag  along  behind  at  a  forty 
per  clip.  That's  right,"  admitted  Yeager  blankly. 

"I  hadn't  thought  about  that.  And  they  had  to 
have  their  horses  with  them  to  get  from  Willow 
Creek  to  the  Pass.  That  spoils  everything,"  the 
girl  agreed. 

Then,  seeing  her  lover's  white  teeth  flashing 
laughter  at  her,  she  knew  he  had  found  a  way 
round  the  difficulty.  "How  would  this  do,  part 
ners — just  for  a  guess:  The  car  was  waiting 
for  them  at  the  end  of  the  Del  Oro  Canon.  They 
dumped  their  loot  into  it,  then  unsaddled  and  threw 
all  the  saddles  in,  too.  They  gave  the  bronchs  a 
good  scare,  and  started  them  into  the  hills,  knowing 
they  would  find  their  way  back  home  all  right  in  a 
couple  of  days.  At  Willow  Creek  they  found 
hawsses  waiting  for  them,  and  Mr.  Spiker  hit  the 
back  trail  for  Noches,  with  his  car,  and  slid  into 
town  while  everybody  was  busy  about  the  robbery." 

"Sure.  That  would  be  the  way  of  it,"  his  friend 
nodded.  "All  we  got  to  do  now  is  to  get  Spiker  to 
squeal." 

"If  he  happens  to  be  a  quitter." 

"He  will — under  pressure.    He's  that  kind." 

A  knock  came  on  the  door,  and  Tom  Benwell, 


274  MAVERICKS 


the  store  clerk,  answered  her  summons  to  come  in. 

"It's  Budd,  Miss  Phyl.  He  came  to  see  about 
getting  that  stuff  you  was  going  to  order  for  a 
dress  for  his  little  girl,"  the  storekeeper  explained. 

Phyllis  rose  and  followed  the  man  back  to  the 
store.  When  she  had  gone,  Jim  stepped  to  the 
door  and  shut  it.  Returning,  he  sat  down  beside 
the  bed. 

"Larry,  I  didn't  tell  all  I  know.  That  hat  in 
Spiker's  room  had  the  initials  P.  S.  written  on  the 
band.  What's  more,  I  knew  the  hat  by  a  big  coffee 
stain  splashed  on  the  crown.  It  happens  I  made 
that  stain  myself  on  the  round-up  onct  when  we 
were  wrastling  and  I  knocked  the  coffeepot  over." 

Keller  looked  at  his  friend  gravely.  "It  was 
Phil  Sanderson's  hat?" 

Yeager  nodded  assent.  "He  must  have  loaned 
his  old  hat  to  Spiker  for  the  holdup." 

"You  didn't  turn  the  hat  over  to  the  sheriff?" 

"Not  so  as  you  could  notice  it.  I  shoved  it  in  my 
jfcans  and  burnt  it  over  my  camp  fire  next  day." 

"This  mixes  things  up  a  heap.  If  Phil  is  in  this 
thing — and  it  sure  looks  that  way — it  ties  our 
hands.  I'd  like  to  have  a  talk  with  Spiker  before, 
Iwe  do  anything." 

"What's  the  matter  with  having  a  talk  with  Phil  ? 
Why  not  shove  this  thing  right  home  to  him?" 

The  nester  shook  his  head.     "Let's  wait  a  while, 
don't  want  to  drive  Healy  away  yet.     If  the 


MAVERICKS 


kid's  in  it  he  would  go  right  to  Healy  with  the 
wbole  story." 

Yeager  swore  softly.  "It's  all  Brill's  fault  He's 
been  leading  Phil  into  devilment  for  two  years 
now." 

"Yes." 

"And  all  the  time  been  playing  himself  for  the* 
leader  of  us  fellows  that  are  against  the  rustlers 
and  that  Bear  Creek  outfit,"  continued  Jim  bitterly. 
"Why,  we  been  talking  of  electing  him  sheriff. 
Durn  his  forsaken  hide,  he's  been  riding  round 
asking  the  boys  to  vote  for  him  on  a  promise  to 
dean  out  the  miscreants." 

"You  can  oppose  him,  of  course.  But  we  liav^ 
no  absolute  proof  against  him  yet  We  must  have 
proof  that  nobody  can  doubt." 

"I  reckon.  And'll  likely  have  to  wait  till  we're 
gray." 

"I  don't  think  so.  My  guess  is  that  he's  right 
near  the  end  of  his  rope.  We're  going  to  make  a 
clean-up  soon  as  I  get  solid  on  my  feet." 

"And  Phil  ?  What  if  we  catch  him  in  the  gather, 
and  find  him  wearing  the  bad-man  brand?" 

Keller's  eyes  met  those  of  his  friend.  "There 
never  was  a  rodeo  where  some  cattle  didn't  sHp 
through  unnoticed,  Jim." 


CHAPTER   XXII 

SURRENDER 

The  weeks  slipped  away  and  brought  with  them 
healing  to  the  wounded  man  at  Seven  Mile.  He 
moved  from  the  bed  where  at  first  he  had  spent  his 
days  to  a  lounge  in  the  living  room,  and  there,  from 
the  bay  window,  he  could  look  out  at  the  varied  life 
of  the  cattle  country.  Men  came  and  went  in  the 
dust  of  the  drag  drive,  their  approach  heralded  by 
the  bawl  of  thirsty  cattle.  Others  cantered  up  and 
bought  tobacco  and  canned  goods.  The  stage  ar 
rived  twice  a  week  with  its  sack  of  mail,  and  al 
ways  when  it  did  Public  Opinion  gathered  upon  the 
porch  of  the  store,  as  of  yore.  Phil  Sanderson  he 
saw  often,  Yeager  sometimes,  and  once  or  twice 
he  caught  a  glimpse  of  Healy's  saturnine  face. 

A  scarcity  of  beef  and  a  sharp  rise  in  prices 
brought  the  round-up  earlier  than  usual.  Every 
spare  man  was  called  upon  to  help  comb  the  hills  for 
the  wild  steers  that  ran  the  wooded  water-sheds,  as 
untamed  as  the  deer  and  the  lynx.  Even  the  store 
keeper,  Benwell,  was  pressed  into  the  service.  'Ras- 
tus  and  the  nester  were  the  only  men  about  the 

276 


MAVERICKS  277 


place,  the  deputy  sheriff  having  been  recalled  to 
Noches  on  the  collapse  of  Healy's  story. 

The  removal  to  a  distance  of  the  rest  of  her  ad 
mirers  did  not  have  the  effect  of  throwing  Keller 
alone  with  Phyllis  more  often.  The  young  mis 
tress  of  the  ranch  invited  Bess  Purdy  to  visit  her, 
and  now  he  never  saw  her  except  in  the  presence  of 
her  other  guest. 

Bess  took  him  in  at  once,  evidencing  her  approval 
of  him  by  entering  upon  a  spirited  war  of  repartee 
with  him.  She  had  not  been  in  the  house  twenty- 
four  hours  before  she  had  unbosomed  herself  of  a 
derisive  confidence. 

"I  don't  believe  you're  a  bank  robber,  at  all!  I 
don't  believe  you  are  even  a  rustler!  You're  a 
false  alarm!" 

Both  Keller  and  Miss  Sanderson  smiled  at  the 
daring  of  the  girl's  challenge.  But  the  former  de 
fended  himself  with  apparent  heat. 

"What  makes  you  think  so?  Why  should  you 
undermine  my  reputation  with  such  an  assertion? 
You  can't  talk  that  way  about  me  without  proving 
it,  Miss  Purdy." 

"Well,  I  don't.     You  don't  look  it." 

"I  can't  help  that.  You  ask  Mr.  Healy.  He'll 
tell  you  I  am." 

"You'll  need  a  better  witness  than  Brill  before 
I'll  believe  it." 

"And  I  thought  you  were  going  to  like  me,"  he 
lamented. 


278  MAVERICKS 


"I  like  a  lot  of  people  who  aren't  ruffians,  but  of 
course  I  can't  admire  you  so  much  as  if  you  were  a 
really  truly  bad  man." 

"But  if  I  promise  to  be  one?" 

"Oh,  anybody  can  promise/'  she  flung  back,  eyes 
bubbling  with  laughter. 

"Wait  till  I  get  on  my  feet  again." 

A  youth  galloped  up  to  the  house  in  a  cloud  of 
alkali  dust 

"There's  Cuffs,"  announced  Phyllis,  smiling  at 
Bess. 

That  young  woman  blushed  a  little,  supposed, 
aloud,  she  must  go  out  to  see  him,  and  withdrew 
in  seeming  reluctance. 

"He  wants  Bess  to  go  with  him  to  the  Frying 
Pan  dance.  He  sent  a  note  over  from  the  round 
up  to  ask  her.  She  hasn't  had  a  chance  yet  to  tell 
him  that  she  would/'  explained  her  friend. 

"How  will  he  take  her?"  asked  the  nester,  his 
eyes  quickening. 

"In  the  surrey,  I  suppose.     Why?" 

"The  surrey  will  hold  four." 

She  made  no  pretense  of  not  understanding.  Her 
3_ook  met  his  in  a  betrayal  of  the  pleasure  his  invi 
tation  gave  her.  Yet  she  shook  her  head. 

"No,  thank  you." 

"But  why—if  I  may  ask?" 

"Ah!    But  you  mayn't,"  she  smiled. 

He  considered  that.     "You  like  to  dance." 

"Most  girls  do." 


MAVERICKS  279 


"Then  it  is  because  of  me,"  he  soliloquized  aloud. 

"Please,"  she  begged  lightly. 

"My  reputation,  I  suppose." 

She  began  to  roll  up  the  embroidery  upon  which 
she  was  busy.  But  he  got  to  the  door  before  her. 

"No,  you  don't." 

"You  are  not  going  to  make  me  tell  you  why  I 
can't  go  with  you,  are  you?" 

"That,  to  start  with.  Then  I'm  going  to  make 
you  tell  me  some  other  things." 

"But  if  I  don't  want  to  tell?"  Her  eyes  were 
wide  open  with  surprise,  for  he  had  never  before 
taken  the  masterful  line  with  her.  Deep  down, 
she  liked  it ;  but  she  had  no  intention  of  letting  him 
know  so. 

"There  are  times  not  to  tell,  and  there  are  times 
to  tell.  This  will  be  one  of  the  last  kind,  Phyllis." 

She  tried  mockery.  "When  you  throw  a  big 
chest  like  that  I  suppose  you  always  get  what  you 
want." 

"You  act  right  funny,  girl.  I  never  see  you 
alone  any  more.  We  haven't  had  a  good  talk  for 
more  than  a  week.  Now,  why?" 

She  thought  of  telling  him  she  had  been  too  busy ; 
^then,  moved  by  an  impulse  of  impatience,  met  his 
gaze  fully,  and  told  him  part  of  the  truth. 

"I  should  think  you  would  understand  that  a  girl 
has  to  be  careful  of  what  she  does!" 

"You  mean  about  us  being  friends?" 


280  MAVERICKS 


"Oh,  we  can  be  friends,  but If  you  can't 

see  it,  then  I  can't  tell  you/'  she  finished. 

"I  can  see  it,  I  reckon.  You  saved  my  life,  and 
I  expect  some  human  cat  got  his  claws  out  and 
said  it  was  because  you  were  fond  of  me. 

"Then  you  saved  it  again  by  your  nursing.  No 
'two  ways  about  that.  Doc  Brown  says  you  and 
Jim  did.  I  was  so  sick  folks  knew  it  had  to  be. 
But  now  I'm  getting  well,  you  have  to  show  them 
you're  not  interested  in  me.  Isn't  that  about  it  ?" 

"Yes." 

"But  you  don't  have  to  show  me,  too,  do  you?" 

"Am  I  not — courteous?" 

"I  ain't  worrying  any  about  your  courtesy.  But, 
look  here,  Phyllie.  Have  you  forgotten  what  hap- 
pened  in  the  kitchen  that  night  you  helped  me  to 
escape  ?" 

She  flashed  him  one  look  of  indignant  reproach. 
"I  should  think  you  would  be  the  last  person  in  the 
world  to  remind  me  of  it." 

"I've  got  a  right  to  mention  it  because  I've  asked 
you  a  question  since  that  ain't  been  answered.  That 
week's  been  up  ten  days." 

"I'm  not  going  to  answer  it  now." 

And  with  that  she  slipped  past  him  and  from  the 
room. 

He  ran  a  hand  through  his  curls  and  voiced  his 
perplexity.  "Now,  if  a  woman  ain't  the  strangest 
ever.  Just  as  a  fellow  is  ready  to  tell  her  things, 
she  gets  mad  and  hikes." 


MAVERICKS  281 


Nevertheless  he  smiled,  not  uncheer fully.  What 
experience  he  had  had  with  young1  women  told  him 
the  signs  were  not  hopeless  for  his  success.  He 
was  not  sure  of  her,  not  by  a  good  deal.  He  had 
captured  her  imagination.  But  to  win  a  girl's 
fancy  is  not  the  same  as  to  storm  her  heart.  He 
often  caught  himself  wondering  just  where  he  stood 
with  her.  For  himself,  he  knew  he  was  fathoms 
deep  in  love. 

She  was  in  his  thoughts  when  he  fell  asleep. 

He  awoke  in  the  darkness,  and  sat  upright  in  the 
bed,  a  feeling  of  calamity  oppressing  him.  Some 
thing  pungent  tickled  his  nostrils. 

A  faint  crackling  sounded  in  the  air. 

Swiftly  he  slipped  on  such  clothes  as  he  needed 
and  stepped  into  the  passage.  A  heavy  smoke  was 
pouring  up  the  back  stairway.  He  knocked  in 
sistently  upon  the  door  where  Phyllis  and  her  guest 
were  sleeping. 

"What  is  it  ?"  a  voice  demanded. 

"Get  up  and  dress,  Miss  Sanderson!  The  house 
is  on  fire!  You  have  plenty  of  time,  I  think.  If 
there's  any  hurry  I'll  let  you  know  after  I've 
looked." 

He  went  down  the  front  stairs  and  found  that 
the  fire  was  in  the  back  part  of  the  house.  Already 
volumes  of  smoke  with  spitting  tongues  of  flame 
were  reaching  toward  the  foot  of  the  stairs.  He 
ran  up  to  the  room  where  the  girls  were  dressing, 
and  called  to  them: 


282  MAVERICKS 

'"    '  «""9 

"Are  you  ready?" 

"Yes." 

The  door  opened,  to  show  him  two  very  pale 
girls,  each  carrying  a  bundle  of  clothes.  They 
were  only  partially  dressed,  but  wrappers  covered: 
their  disarray.  Keller  went  to  the  clothes  closet, 
emptied  it  with  a  sweep  and  lift  of  his  arm,  and 
returned,  to  lead  the  way  downstairs. 

"Take  a  breath  before  you  start.  The  smoke's 
bad,  but  there  is  no  real  danger,"  he  told  them  as 
he  plunged  forward. 

At  the  foot  of  the  stairs  he  stopped  to  see  that 
they  were  following  him  closely,  then  flung  open 
the  outer  door  and  let  in  a  rush  of  cool,  sweet  air. 
In  another  moment  they  were  outside,  safe  and 
unhurt. 

Phyllis  drew  a  long  breath  before  she  said : 

"The  house  is  gone!" 

"If  there  is  anything  you  want  particularly  from 
the  living  room  I  can  get  in  through  the  window," 
Keller  told  her. 

She  shuddered.  Flame  jets  were  already  shoot 
ing  out  here  and  there.  "I  wouldn't  let  you  go 
back  for  the  world.  We  didn't  get  out  too  soon/' 

"No,"  he  agreed. 

A  sniveling  voice  behind  them  broke  in :  "Where 
is  Mr.  PhiJ  ?  I  yain't  seen  him  yet" 

Larrabie  swung  round  on  'Rastus  like  a  flash. 
"What  do  you  mean?  He's  at  the  round-up,  of 
course." 


MAVERICKS  283 


The  little  fellow  began  to  bawl :  "No,  sah.  He 
done  come  home  late  last  night.  Aftah  you-all  had 
gone  to  bed.  He's  in  his  room,  tha's  where  he  is." 

Phyllis  caught  at  the  arm  of  Keller  to  steady  her. 
•  She  was  colorless  to  the  lips. 

"Oh,  God!     Oh,  God!"  she  cried  faintly. 

The  nester  pushed  her  gently  into  the  arms  of  her 
guest. 

"Take  care  of  her,  Bess.     I'll  get  PhiL" 

He  ran  round  the  house  to  the  back.  The  bed 
room  occupied  by  young  Sanderson  was  on  the 
first  floor.  The  ranger  caught  up  a  stick,  smashed 
the  window,  and  tore  out  the  frame  by  main 
strength.  Presently  he  was  inside,  groping  through 
the  dense  smoke  toward  the  bed. 

Flames  leaped  at  him  from  out  of  it  like  darting 
serpents.  His  hair,  his  face,  his  clothes,  caught 
fire  before  he  had  discovered  that  the  bed  had  been 
used,  but  was  now  empty.  The  door  into  the  hall 
was  open,  and  through  it  were  pouring  billows  of 
smoke.  Evidently  Phil  must  have  tried  to  escape 
that  way  and  been  overpowered. 

The  young  man  caught  up  a  towel  and  wrapped 
it  around  his  throat  and  mouth,  then  plunged  for 
ward  into  the  caldron  of  the  passage.  The  smoke 
choked  him  and  the  intense  heat  peeled  his  face 
and  made  the  endurance  of  it  an  agony. 

He  stumbled  over  something  soft,  and  discovered 
with  his  hands  that  it  was  a  body.  Smothered  and 


884  MAVERICKS 


choked,  half  frantic  with  the  heat,  he  struggled 
back  into  the  bedroom  with  his  burden. 

Somehow  he  reached  the  window,  stumbled 
through  it,  and  dragged  the  inanimate  body  after 
him.  Then,  with  Phil  in  his  arms,  he  reeled  for 
ward  into  the  fresh  air  beyond. 

With  a  cry  Phyllis  broke  from  Bess  and  ran' 
toward  him.  But  before  she  had  reached  the  res 
cuer  and  the  rescued,  Keller  went  down  in  total 
collapse.  He,  too,  was  unconscious  when  she  knelt 
beside  him  and  began  with  her  hands  to  crush  out 
the  smoldering  fire  in  his  clothes. 

He  opened  his  eyes  and  smiled  faintly  whek  "he 
saw  who  it  was, 

"How's  the  boy?"  he  asked. 

"He  is  breathing,"  cried  Bess  joyfully,  from 
where  she  was  bending  over  Sanderson. 

"You  go  attend  to  him.     I'm  all  right  now." 

"Are  you  truly?" 

"Truly." 

He  proved  it  by  sitting  up,  and  presently  by  ris 
ing  and  joining  with  her  the  group  gathered 
around  Phil.  For  Aunt  Becky  had  now  emerged 
from  her  cabin  and  taken  charge  of  affairs. 

Phil  was  supported  to  the  bunk  house  and  put  to 
bed  by  Keller  and  'Rastus.  It  was  already  plain 
that  he  would  be  none  the  worse  for  his  adventure 
after  a  night's  good  sleep.  Aunt  Becky  applied  to 
his  case  the  homely  remedies  she  had  used  before, 
while  the  others  stood  around  the  bed  and  helped  as 


MAVERICKS  285 


best  they  could.  Strangely  enough,  he  was  not 
burned  at  all.  In  this  he  had  escaped  better  than 
Keller,  whose  hair  and  eyebrows  and  skin  were  all 
the  worse  for  singeing. 

The  nester  noticed  that  Phyllis,  in  handing  a 
bowl  of  water  to  Bess,  used  awkwardly  her  left 
hand.  The  right  one,  he  observed,  was  held  with 
the  palm  concealed  against  the  folds  of  her  skirt. 

Presently  Phyllis,  her  anxiety  as  to  Phil  re 
lieved,  left  Aunt  Becky  and  Bess  to  care  for  him, 
while  she  went  out  to  make  arrangements  for  dis 
posing  of  the  party  until  morning.  The  nester  fol 
lowed  her  into  the  night  and  walked  beside  her 
toward  the  house  of  the  foreman.  The  darkness 
was  lit  up  luridly  by  the  shooting  flames  of  the 
burning  house. 

"The  store  isn't  going  to  catch  fire.  That's  one 
good  thing,"  Keller  observed,  by  way  of  comfort. 

"Yes."  There  was  a  catch  in  her  voice,  for  all 
the  little  treasures  of  her  girlhood,  gathered  from 
time  to  time,  were  going  up  in  smoke. 

"You're  insured,  I  reckon?" 

"Yes." 

"Well,  it  might  be  worse." 

She  thought  of  the  narrow  escape  Phil  had  hadv 
and  nodded. 

"You'll  have  to  sleep  in  the  bunk  house.  Take 
any  of  the  beds  you  like.  Bess  and  I  will  put  up 
\t  the  foreman's,"  she  explained. 

As  is  the  custom  among  bachelors  who  attend 


286  MAVERICKS 


to  their  own  domestic  affairs,  they  found  the  bed 
just  as  the  foreman  had  stepped  out  of  it  tw» 
weeks  before.  While  Keller  held  the  lantern,  Phyl 
lis  made  it  up,  and  again  he  saw  that  she  was  using1 
her  right  hand  very  carefully  and  flinching  when  it 
touched  the  blankets.  Putting  the  lantern  down 
on  the  table,  he  walked  up  to  her. 

"I'll  make  the  bed." 

She  stepped  back,  with  a  little  laugh.  "All  right/' 

He  made  it,  then  turned  to  her  at  once. 

"I  want  to  see  your  hand/' 

She  gave  him  the  left  one,  even  as  he  had  done 
on  the  occasion  of  their  second  meeting.  He  took 
it,  and  kept  it. 

"Now  the  other." 

"What  do  you  want  with  it?5> 

"Never  mind."  He  reached  down  and  drew  it 
from  the  folds  of  her  skirt,  where  it  had  again 
fallen.  Very  gently  he  turned  it  so  that  the  palm 
was  up.  Ugly  blisters  and  a  red  seam  showed 
where  she  had  burned  herself.  He  looked  at  her 
without  speaking. 

"It's  nothing/'  she  told  him,  a  little  hysterically. 

For  an  instant  her  mind  flashed  back  to  the  time^ 
when  Buck  Weaver  had  drawn  the  cactus  spines^ 
out  of  that  same  hand. 

His  voice  was  rough  with  feeling.  "I  can  see  it 
isn't.  And  you  got  it  for  me — putting  out  the  fire 
ni  my  clothes.  I  reckon  I  cayn't  thank  you,  you 


MAVERICKS  287 


poor  little  tortured  hand."  He  lifted  the  fingers 
to  his  lips  and  kissed  them. 

"Don't,"  she  cried  brokenly. 

"Has  it  got  to  be  this  way  always,  Phyllie — you 
giving  and  me  taking?"  His  hand  tightened  on 
hers  ever  so  slightly,  and  a  spasm  of  pain  shot 
across  her  face.  He  looked  at  the  burned  ringers 
again  tenderly.  "Does  it  hurt  pretty  bad,  girl?" 

"I  wish  it  was  ten  times  as  bad !"  she  broke  out, 
with  a  sob.  "You  saved  Phil's  life — at  the  risk 
of  your  own.  I  wish  I  could  tell  you  how  I  feel, 
what  I  think  of  you,  how  splendid  you  are."  In 
default  of  which  ability,  she  began  to  cry  softly. 

He  wasted  no  more  time.  He  did  not  ask  her 
whether  he  might.  With  a  gesture,  his  arm  went 
around  her  and  drew  her  to  him. 

"Let  me  tell  what  I  think  of  you,  instead,  girl  o' 
mine.  I  cayn't  tell  it,  either,  for  that  matter,  but 
I  reckon  I  can  make  out  to  show  you,  honey." 

"I  didn't  mean — that  way,"  she  protested,  be 
tween  laughter  and  tears. 

"Well,  that's  the  way  I  mean." 

Neither  spoke  again  for  a  minute.  Than:  "Do 
>you  really — love  me?"  she  murmured. 

"What  do  you  think?"  He  laughed  with  the 
sheer  unconquerable  boyish  delight  in  her. 

"I  think  you're  pretending  right  well,"  she 
smiled. 

"If  I  am  making  believe." 


288  MAVERICKS 


"If  you  are."  Her  arms  slipped  round  his  necK 
with  a  swift  impulse  of  love.  "But  you're  not.  Tell 
me  you're  not,  Larry. " 

He  told  her,  in  the  wordless  way  lovers  have  at 
command,  the  way  that  is  more  convincing  than 
speech. 

So  Phyllis,  from  the  troubled  waters  of  doubt, 
came  at  last  to  safe  harborage. 


CHAPTER    XXIII 

AT  THE  RODEO 

There  »vas  an  exodus  from  Seven  Mile  the  sec 
ond  day  after  the  fire.  Keller  went  up  Bear  Creek, 
Phyllis  accepted  the  invitation  of  Bess  to  stay  with 
her  at  the  Fiddleback,  and  her  brother  returned  to 
the  round-up. 

The  riders  were  now  combing  the  Lost  Creek 
watershed.  Phil  knew  the  camp  would  be  either  at 
Peaceful  Valley  or  higher  up,  near  the  headwaters 
of  the  creek.  Before  he  reached  the  valley  the 
steady  bawl  of  cattle  told  him  that  the  outfit  was 
camped  there.  He  topped  the  ridge  and  looked 
down  upon  Cattleland  at  its  busiest.  Just  below 
him  was  the  remuda,  the  ponies  grazing  slowly 
toward  the  hills  under  the  care  of  three  half -grown 
boys. 

Beyond  were  the  herded  cattle.  Here  all  was 
activity.  Within  the  fence  of  riders  surrounding 
the  wild  creatures  the  cutting  out  and  the  branding 
were  being  pushed  rapidly  forward.  Occasionally 
some  leggy  steer,  tail  up  and  feet  pounding,  would 
make  a  dash  to  break  the  cordon.  Instantly  one 

289 


290  MAVERICKS 


of  the  riders  would  wheel  in  chase,  head  off  the 
animal,  and  drive  it  back. 

Brill  Healy,  boss  of  the  rodeo  by  election,  was  in 
charge.  He  was  an  expert  handler  of  cattle,  one 
of  the  best  in  the  country.  It  was  his  nature  to 
seek  the  limelight,  though  it  must  be  said  for  him 
that  he  rose  to  his  responsibilities.  The  owners 
knew  that  when  he  was  running  the  round-up  few 
cattle  would  slip  through  the  net  he  wound  around 
them. 

"Hello,  Brill!"  shouted  the  young  man  as  he 
rode  up. 

"Hello,  son!  Too  bad  about  the  fire.  I'll  want 
to  hear  about  it  later.  Looking  for  a  job?"  he 
flung  hurriedly  over  his  shoulder.  For  he  had  not 
even  a  minute  to  spare. 

"I  reckon." 

Phil  did  not  wait  to  be  assigned  work,  but  joined 
the  calf  branders. 

Not  until  night  had  fallen  and  they  were  gath 
ered  round  in  a  semicircle  leaning  against  their 
saddles  did  Phil  find  time  to  tell  the  story  of  the 
fire.  There  was  some  haphazard  comment  when  he 
had  finished,  after  which  Slim  spoke. 

"So  the  nester  hauled  you  out.  Ce'tainly  looks 
like  he's  plumb  game.  You  said  he  was  afire  when 
he  got  you  into  the  open,  didn't  you,  Phil?" 

The  boy  nodded.  "And  all  in.  He  fainted  right 
away." 

"With  him  still  burning  away  like  tfae  doctor'* 


MAVERICKS  291 


fire  there,"  murmured  Healy  ironically,  with  a  slight 
gesture  toward  the  cook. 

Phil  looked  at  him  angrily.  "I  didn't  say  that 
Some  one  put  the  fire  out." 

"Oh,  some  one!    Might  a  man  ask  who?" 

Phil  had  not  had  any  intention  of  telling,  but  he 
found  himself  letting  Healy  have  it  straight. 

"Phyllis." 

"About  what  I  thought!"  Healy  said  it  signifi 
cantly,  and  with  a  malice  that  overrode  his  dis 
cretion. 

"What  do  you  mean?"  demanded  the  boy  fiercely.. 

"I  ain't  said  anything,  have  I  ?"  Healy  came  back 
smoothly. 

Yeager's  quiet  voice  broke  the  silence  that  fol 
lowed,  while  Phil  was  trying  to  voice  the  resent 
ment  in  him. 

"You  mean  what  we're  all  thinking,  Brill,  I 
reckon — that  she  is  the  sort  to  forget  herself  when 
somebody  needs  her  help.  Ain't  that  it?" 

The  eyes  of  the  two  met  steadily  in  a  clash  of 
wills.  Healy's  gave  way  for  the  time,  not  because 
he  was  mastered,  but  because  he  did  not  wish  to 
alienate  the  rough,  but  fair-minded,  men  sitting 
around. 

"You're  mighty  good  at  explaining  me  to  the 
boys,  Jim.  I  expect  that  is  what  I  mean/'  he  an 
swered  sullenly. 

"Sure,"  put  in  Purdy,  with  amiable  intent. 

"But  when  it  comes  to  Mr.  Keller  I  can  explain 


292  MAVERICKS 


myself  tol'able  well.  I  don't  need  any  help  there, 
Jim,  not  even  if  he  is  yore  best  friend." 

"If  you've  got  anything  to  say  against  him,  I'll 
ask  you  to  say  it  when  I'm  not  around,"  broke  in 
Phil.  "You'll  recollect,  please,  that  he's  my  friends 
too." 

"That  so?  Since  when,  Phil?"  the  rodeo  boss 
retorted  sarcastically. 

"Since  he  went  into  the  fire  after  me  and  saved 
my  life.  Think  I'm  a  coyote  to  round  on  him?  I 
tell  you  he's  a  white  man  clear  through.  In  my 
opinion,  he's  neither  a  rustler  nor  a  bank  robber." 
He  was  flushed  and  excited,  but  his  gaze  met  that 
of  his  former  friend  and  challenged  him  defiantly. 

Healy's  eyes  narrowed.  He  gazed  at  the  boy 
darkly,  as  if  he  meant  to  read  him  through  and 
through.  For  years  he  had  dominated  Phil,  had 
shaped  him  to  his  ends,  had  led  him  into  wild,  law 
less  courses  after  him.  Now  the  anchors  were 
dragging.  He  was  losing  control  of  him.  He  re 
solved  to  turn  the  screws  on  him,  but  not  at  this 
time  and  place. 

"I've  always  been  considered  a  full-grown  man, 
Phil.  What  I  think  I  aim  to  say  out  loud  when  the 
!  notion  hits  me.  That  being  so,  I  go  on  record  as 
having  an  opinion  about  Keller.  You  think  he's  on 
the  square,  and  you  give  him  a  whitewashed  certifi 
cate  as  a  bony-fidy  Sunday-school  scholar. 

"Different  here.  I  think  him  a  coyote  and  a 
crook,  and  so  I  say  it  right  out  in  meeting.  Any 


MAVERICKS  293 


objections?"  The  gaze  of  the  boss  shifted  from 
Sanderson  to  Yeager,  and  fastened. 

"None  in  the  world.  You  think  what  you  like, 
Brill,  and  we'll  stick  to  our  opinions,"  Yeager  re 
plied  cheerfully. 

"And  when  I  get  good  and  ready  I'll  act  on 
mine,"  Healy  replied  with  an  evil  grin. 

"If  you  find  it  right  convenient.  I  expect  Kel 
ler  ain't  exactly  a  wooden  cigar  Indian.  Maybe 
he'll  have  a  say-so  in  what's  doing,"  suggested 
Yeager. 

"About  as  much  as  he  had  last  time,"  sneered  the 
round-up  boss.  With  which  he  rose,  stretched  him 
self,  and  gave  orders.  "Time  to  turn  in,  boys. 
We're  combing  Old  Baldy  to-morrow,  remember." 

"And  Old  Baldy's  sure  a  holy  terror,"  admitted 
Slim. 

"Come  three  more  days  and  we'd  ought  to  be 
through.  I'm  not  going  to  grieve  any  when  we 
are.  This  high  life  don't  suit  me  too  durned  well," 
put  in  Benwell. 

"Yet  when  you  come  here  first  you  was  a  right 
skk  man,  Tom.  Now,  you're  some  healthy.  Don't 
that  prove  the  outside  of  a  hawss  is  good  for  the  in 
side  of  a  man,  like  the  docs  say?"  grinned  Purdy. 

"Tom's  notion  of  real  living  is  sassiety  with  a 
capital  S,"  explained  Cuffs.  "You  watch  him  cut 
ice  at  the  Frying  Pan  dance  next  week.  He'll  be 
the  real-thing  lady-killer.  All  you  lads  going,  I 
reckon.  How  about  you,  Jim?" 

Yeager  said  he  expected  to  be  there. 


294  MAVERICKS 


"With  yore  friend  the  rustler?'*  asked  Healy  in 
solently  over  his  shoulder. 

"I  haven't  got  any  friend  that's  a  rustler." 

"I'm  speaking  of  Mr.  Larrabie  Keller."  There 
was  a  slurring  inflection  on  the  prefix. 

"He'll  be  there,  I  shouldn't  wonder." 

"I'd  wonder  a  heap,"  retorted  Healy.  "You'll 
see  he  won't  show  his  face  there." 

"That's  where  you're  wrong,  Brill.  He  told  me 
he  was  going,"  spoke  up  Phil  triumphantly. 

"We'll  see.  He's  wise  to  the  fact  that  this  coun 
try  knows  him  for  an  out-and-out  crook.  He'll  stay 
in  his  hole." 

"You  going,  Slim?"  asked  Purdy  amiably,  to 
turn  the  conversation  into  a  more  pacific  channel. 

"Sure,"  answered  that  young  giant,  getting  laz 
ily  to  his  feet.  "Well,  sons,  the  boss  is  right. 
Time  to  pound  our  ears." 

They  rolled  themselves  in  their  blankets,  the 
starry  sky  roofing  their  bedroom.  Within  five  min 
utes  every  man  of  them  was  asleep  except  the  night 
herders — and  one  other. 

Healy  lay  a  little  apart  from  the  rest,  partially 
^screened  by  some  boxes  of  provisions  and  a  couple 
lbf  sacks  of  flour.  His  jaw  was  clamped  tight.  He 
looked  into  the  deep  velvet  sky  without  seeing.  For 
a  long  time  he  did  not  move.  Then,  noiselessly,  he 
sat  up,  glanced  around  carefully  to  make  sure  he 
was  not  observed,  rose,  and  stole  into  the  darkness, 
carrying  with  him  his  saddle  and  bridle. 


MAVERICKS  295 


One  of  his  ponies  was  hobbled  in  the  mesquite. 
Swiftly  he  saddled.  Leading  the  animal  very  care 
fully  so  as  to  avoid  rustling  the  brush,  he  zigzagged 
from  the  camp  until  he  had  reached  a  safe  distance. 
Here  he  swung  himself  on  and  rode  into  the  blur  of 
night,  at  first  cautiously,  but  later  with  swift-pound 
ing  hoofs.  He  went  toward  the  northwest  in  a  bee 
line  without  hesitation  or  doubt.  Only  when  the  lie 
of  the  ground  forced  a  detour  did  he  vary  his  di 
rection. 

So  for  hours  he  travelled  until  he  reached  a  canon 
in  which  squatted  a  little  log  cabin,  He  let  his  voice 
out  in  the  howl  of  a  coyote  before  he  dismounted. 
No  answer  came,  save  the  echo  from  the  cliff  op 
posite.  Again  that  mournful  call  sounded,  and  this 
time  from  the  cabin  found  an  answer. 

A  man  came  sleepily  to  the  door  and  peered  out. 
"Hello!  That  you,  Brill?" 

Healy  swung  off,  trailed  his  rein,  and  followed 
the  man  into  the  cabin.  "Don't  light  up,  Tom.  No 
need." 

For  ten  minutes  they  talked  in  low  tones.  Healy 
emerged  from  the  cabin,  remounted,  and  rode  back 
to  the  cow  camp.  He  reached  it  just  as  the  first 
faint  streaks  of  gray  tinged  the  eastern  sky. 

Silently  he  unsaddled,  hobbled  his  pony,  and  car 
ried  his  saddle  back  to  the  place  where  he  had  been 
lying.  Once  more  he  lay  down,  glanced  cautiously 
round  to  see  all  was  quiet,  and  fell  asleep  as  soon  as 
his  head  touched  the  saddle. 


CHAPTER  XXIV 

MISSING 

From  all  over  the  Malpais  country,  from  the  wa 
tersheds  where  Bear  and  Elk  and  Cow  creeks  head, 
from  the  halfway  house  far  out  in  the  desert  where 
the  stage  changes  horses,  men  and  women  dribbled 
to  the  Frying  Pan  for  the  big  dance  after  the  round 
up.  Great  were  the  preparations.  Many  cakes  and 
pies  and  piles  of  sandwiches  had  been  made  ready. 
Also  there  was  a  wash  boiler  full  of  coffee  and  a 
galvanized  tub  brimming  with  lemonade.  For  the 
Frying  Pan  was  doing  itself  proud. 

Phil  and  his  sister  drove  over  together.  The  boy 
had  asked  Bess  to  go  with  him,  but  Cuffs  had  beaten 
him  to  it.  The  distance  was  only  twenty-five  miles, 
a  neighborly  stroll  in  that  country  of  wide  spaces 
and  desert  stretches  filled  with  absentees. 

When  Phyllis  came  into  the  big  room  where  the 
dancing  was  in  progress,  her  dark  eye  swept  the 
room  without  finding  him  for  whom  she  looked. 
There  were  many  there  she  knew,  not  more  than 
two  or  three  whom  she  had  never  met,  but  among 
them  all  she  looked  at  none  who  was  a  magnet  for 
her  eyes.  Keller  had  not  yet  arrived. 

296 


MAVERICKS  297 


Before  she  had  taken  her  seat  she  had  three  en 
gagements  to  dance,  Jim  Yeager  had  waylaid  her ; 
so,  too,  had  Slim  and  Curly.  She  waltzed  first  with 
Phil,  and  after  he  had  done  his  duty  he  left  her  to 
the  besiegings  of  half  a  score  of  riders  for  various 
ranches  who  came  and  went  and  came  again.  She 
joked  with  them,  joined  the  merry  banter  that  went 
on,  laughed  at  them  when  they  grew  sentimental, 
always  with  a  sprightly  devotion  to  the  matter  in 
hand 

Nevertheless,  though  they  did  not  know  it,  her 
mind  was  full  of  him  who  had  not  yet  appeared. 
Why  was  he  late?  Could  he  have  missed  the  way 
by  any  chance?  And  later — as  the  hours  passed 
without  bringing  him — could  anything  have  hap 
pened  to  him?  More  than  once  her  troubled  gaze 
fell  upon  Brill  Healy  with  a  brooding  question  in  it. 
The  man  had  received  only  the  day  before  his  party's 
nomination  for  sheriff,  and  he  was  doing  the  gra 
cious  to  all  the  women  and  children. 

He  had  many  of  the  qualities  that  make  for  popu 
larity,  even  though  he  was  often  overbearing,  re 
vengeful,  and  sullen.  When  he  chose  he  could  be 
hail  fellow  well  met  in  a  way  Malpais  found  flatter 
ing  to  its  vanity.  Now  he  was  apparently  having 
the  time  of  his  life.  Wherever  he  moved  an  eddy 
of  laughter  and  gayety  went  with  him.  The  eyes  of 
men  as  well  as  women  admiringly  followed  his  dark, 
lithe,  picturesque  figure. 

Phyllis  had  declined  to  dance  with  him,  giving  as 


298  MAVERICKS 


an  excuse  a  full  programme,  and  for  an  instant  his 
face  had  blazed  with  the  suppressed  rage  in  him. 
He  had  bowed  and  swaggered  away  with  a  malicious 
sneer.  Her  judgment  told  her  it  was  folly  to  con 
nect  this  man  with  the  absence  of  her  lover,  but  that 
look  of  malevolent  triumph  had  none  the  less  shaken 
her  heart.  What  had  he  meant?  It  seemed  less  a 
threat  for  the  future  than  a  gloating  over  some  evil 
already  done. 

When  she  could  endure  them  no  longer  she  car 
ried  her  fears  to  Jim  Yeager.  They  were  dancing, 
but  she  made  an  excuse  of  fatigue  to  drop  out. 

"First  time  I  ever  knew  you  to  play  out  at  a 
dance,  Phyl,"  he  rallied  her. 

"It  isn't  that.  I  want  to  say  something  to  you," 
she  whispered. 

He  had  a  guess  what  it  was,  for  his  own  mind  was 
not  quite  easy. 

"Do  you  think  anything  could  have  happened, 
Jim?"  she  besought  pitifully  when  for  a  moment 
they  were  alone  in  a  corner. 

"What  could  have  happened,  Phyllie?  Do  you 
reckon  he  fell  off  his  hawss,  and  him  a  full-size 
man?"  he  scoffed. 

"Yes,  but — you  don't  know  how  Brill  looked  at 
me.  I'm  afraid." 

"Oh,  Brill !"  His  voice  held  an  edge  of  scorn,  but 
none  the  less  it  concealed  a  real  fear.  He  was  mak 
ing  as  much  concession  to  it  as  to  her  when  he 
added  lightly:  "Tell  you  what  I'll  do,  Phyl.  I'll 


MAVERICKS  299 


saddle  up  and  take  a  look  back  over  the  Bear  Creek 
trail.  Likely  I'll  meet  him,  and  we'll  come  in  to 
gether." 

Her  eyes  met  his,  and  he  needed  no  other  thanks, 
"You'll  lose  the  dance,"  was  her  only  comment. 

Jim  followed  the  road  until  it  branched  off  to 
join  the  Bear  Creek  trail.  Here  he  deflected  toward 
the  mountains,  taking  the  zigzag  path  that  ran  like 
a  winding  thread  among  the  rocks  as  it  mounted. 
Now  for  the  first  time  there  came  to  him  the  faint 
rhythmic  sound  of  a  galloping  horse's  hoofs.  He 
did  not  stop,  and  as  he  picked  his  way  among  the 
rocks  he  heard  for  some  time  no  more  of  it. 

"Mr.  Hurry-up-like-hell  kept  the  road,  I  reckon," 
Jim  ruminated  aloud,  and  even  as  he  spoke  he  caught 
again  the  echo  of  an  iron  shoe  striking  a  rock. 

He  stopped  and  listened.  Some  one  was  climb 
ing  the  trail  behind  him. 

"Mebbe  he's  a  friend,  and  then  mebbe  he  isn't. 
We'll  let  him  have  the  whole  road  to  himself,  eh, 
Keno?" 

Yeager  guided  his  pony  to  the  left,  and  took  up  a 
position  behind  some  huge  bowlders  from  whence  he 
could  see  without  being  seen.  The  pursuer  toiled 
into  sight,  a  slim,  wiry  youth  on  a  buckskin.  He 
came  forward  out  of  the  shadows  into  the  fretted 
moonlight. 

Yeager  gave  a  glad  whoop  of  recognition.  "Hi- 
yi,  Phil!" 


200  MAVERICKS 


"You're  there,  are  you  ?  Did  I  scare  you  off  the 
trail,  Jim?" 

"That's  whatever,  boy.  What  are  you  doing 
here?" 

"Sis  sent  me.  She  got  worried  again,  and  we  fig 
ured  I'd  better  join  you." 

"I  reckon  there's  nothing  serious  the  matter.  Still, 
it  ain't  like  Larry  to  say  he  would  come  and  then  not 
show  up." 

"Brill  is  back  there  bragging  about  it."  Phil  nod 
ded  his  head  toward  the  lights  of  the  Frying  Pan 
glimmering  far  below.  "Says  he  knew  the  waddy 
wouldn't  show  his  head.  You  don't  reckon,  Jim, 
he's  turned  a  trick  on  Keller,  do  you?" 

"That's  what  we  have  got  to  find  out,  Phil." 

"Looks  funny  he'd  be  so  durned  sure  when  we  all 
know  how  game  Keller  is,"  the  boy  reflected  aloud. 

"I  don't  expect  you're  armed,  Phil?"  Jim  put 
the  statement  as  a  question. 

"Nope.     Are  you?" 

"No,  I  ain't.  Didn't  think  of  it  when  I  started. 
Oh,  well,  we'll  make  out.  Like  enough  there  will  be 
no  need  of  guns." 

A  gray  light  was  sifting  into  the  sky,  and  still 
they  rode,  winding  up  toward  the  peaks  of  the  di 
vide.  Jim,  leading  the  way,  drew  rein  and  pointed 
to  a  cactus  bush  beside  the  trail.  Among  its  spines 
lay  a  gray  felt  hat.  From  it  his  eye  wandered  to 
the  very  evident  signs  of  a  struggle  that  had  taken 
place.  Moss  and  cactus  had  been  trampled  down  by 


MAVERICKS  301 


boot  heels.  To  the  cholla  hung  here  and  there 
scraps  of  cloth.  A  blood  splash  stared  at  them  from 
an  outcropping  slope  of  rock. 

Jim  swung  from  the  saddle  and  rescued  the  hat 
from  the  spines.  Inside  the  sweat  band  were  the 
initials  L.  K.  Silently  he  handed  the  hat  to  Phil. 

"It's  his  hat/'  the  boy  cried. 

"It's  his  hat,"  Jim  agreed.  "They  must  have  laid 
for  him  here.  He  put  up  a  good  scrap.  Notice 
how  that  cholla  is  cut  to  ribbons.  Point  is,  what 
did  they  do  to  him  ?" 

They  searched  the  ground  thoroughly,  and  dis» 
covered  no  body  hidden  in  the  brush. 

'They've  taken  him  away.  Likely  he's  alive," 
Yeager  decided  aloud  at  last. 

"Brill  couldn't  have  been  in  this.  He  was  at  the 
Frying  Pan  before  I  was." 

"I  reckon  he  ordered  it  done.  If  that's  correct 
they  will  be  holding  Larry  till  Brill  gets  there  to  give 
further  orders." 

Phil  entered  an  objection.  "That  doesn't  look  to 
me  like  Brill's  way.  He's  not  scared  of  any  man 
that  lives.  When  he  squares  accounts  with  Keller 
he'll  be  on  the  job  himself." 

"That's  so,  too,"  admitted  Yeager.  "Still,  I  figure 
this  is  Healy's  work.  Maybe  he  gave  out  there  was 
to  be  no  killing.  He  was  at  the  ranch  himself,  big 
as  coffee,  so  as  to  be  sure  of  his  alibi." 

"What  does  he  care  about  an  alibi?  When  he 
gets  ready  to  go  gunnin'  after  Kel/er  he  won't  care 


302  MAVERICKS 


if  the  whole  Malpais  sees  him.     There's  something 
in  this  I  don't  sabe." 

"There  sure  is.  We've  got  to  run  the  thing  down 
muy  pronto.  No  use  both  of  us  going  ahead  without 
arms,  Phil.  My  notion  is  this:  You  burn  a  shuck 
back  to  the  Frying  Pan  and  round  up  some  of  our 
friends  on  the  q.  t.  Don't  let  Brill  get  a  notion  or 
what's  in  the  air.  Better  make  straight  for  Greg 
ory's  Pass.  I'm  going  to  follow  this  trail  we've  cut 
and  see  what's  doing.  Once  I  find  out  I'll  double 
back  to  the  Pass  and  meet  you.  Bring  along  an 
extra  gun  for  me." 

"I  don't  reckon  I  will,  Jim.  What's  the  matter 
with  me  going  on  instead  of  you  ?  I  can  follow  this 
trail  good  as  you  can.  I  announce  right  here  that 
I'm  not  going  back.  I've  got  first  call  on  this  job. 
Keller  went  into  the  fire  after  me.  I'm  going  to 
follow  this  trail  to  hell  if  I  have  to." 

Yeager  tried  persuasion,  argument,  appeal.  The 
lad  was  as  fixed  as  Gibraltar. 

"I'm  not  going  to  go  buttin'  in  where  I'm  not 
wanted  any  more  than  you  would,  Jim.  I'll  play  this 
hand  out  with  a  cool  head,  but  I'm  going  to  play  it 
my  ownself." 

"All  right.  It's  your  say-so.  I'll  admit  you've 
got  a  claim.  But  you  want  to  remember  one  thing 
— if  anything  happens  to  you  I  cayn't  square  it  with 
Phyl.  Go  slow,  boy!" 

Without  more  words  they  parted,  Jim  to  ride 
swiftly  back  for  help,  and  young  Sanderson  to  push 


MAVERICKS  303 


on  up  the  trail  with  his  eyes  glued  to  it.  Ever  since 
he  could  swing  himself  to  a  saddle  he  had  been  a 
vaquero  in  the  cow  country. 

He  was  therefore  an  expert  at  reading  the  signs 
left  by  travellers.  What  would  have  been  invisible 
to  a  tenderfoot  offered  evidence  to  him  as  plain  as 
the  print  on  a  primer.  Mile  after  mile  he  covered 
with  a  minute  scrutiny  that  never  wavered. 


CHAPTER  XXV 

LARRY  TELLS  A  BEAR  STORY 

Keller  rode  blithely  down  the  piney  trail  while 
the  sun  flung  its  brilliant  good-bye  over  the  crotch  of 
the  mountains  behind  which  it  was  slipping.  The 
western  sky  was  a  Turner  sublimated  to  the  nth  de 
gree,  a  thing  magnificent  and  indescribable.  The 
young  man  rode  with  his  crisp  curls  bared  to  the 
light,  grateful  breeze  that  came  like  healing  from  the 
great  peaks.  From  the  joyous,  unquenchable  youth 
in  him  bubbled  snatches  of  song  and  friendly  smiles 
scattered  broadcast  over  a  world  that  pleased  him 
mightily. 

He  was  going  to  see  his  girl,  going  down  to  the 
Frying  Pan  to  take  her  in  his  arms  and  whirl  her 
into  the  land  of  romance  to  the  rhythm  of  the 
waltz.  He  wanted  to  shout  it  out  to  the  chipmunks 
and  the  quails.  Ever  and  again  he  broke  out  with  a 
line  or  two  of  a  melody  he  had  heard  once  from  a 
phonograph.  No  matter  if  he  did  not  get  the  words 
exactly.  He  was  sure  of  the  sentiment.  So  the  hills 
flung  back  his  lusty: 

"I  love  a  lassie, 
A  bonnie  Hieland  lassie, 
She's  as  pure  as  the  lily  of  the  dell." 
304* 


MAVERICKS  305 


Disaster  fell  upon  him  like  a  bolt  out  of  a  June 
sky.  His  pony  stumbled,  went  down  heavily  with  its 
weight  on  his  leg.  From  the  darkness  men  surged 
upon  him.  Rough  hands  dragged  at  him.  The  butt 
of  a  weapon  crashed  down  on  his  hat  and  stunned 
him. 

He  became  dimly  aware  that  his  leg  was  free  from 
the  horse,  that  he  was  struggling  blindly  to  rise 
against  the  force  that  clamped  him  down.  He  knew 
that  he  reached  his  feet,  that  he  was  lashing  out 
furiously  with  both  hands,  that  even  as  he  grappled 
with  one  assailant  a  gleam  of  steel  flashed  across  the 
moonlight  and  shot  through  him  with  a  zigzag  pain 
that  blotted  out  the  world. 

As  his  mind  swam  back  to  consciousness  through 
troubled  waters  a  far-away  voice  came  out  of  the 
fog  that  surrounded  him. 

"He's  coming  to,  looks  like.  I  reckon  you  ain't 
bust  his  head,  after  all,  Brad." 

Vague,  grinning  gargoyles  mocked  him  from  the 
haze.  Slowly  these  took  form.  Features  stood  out. 
The  masks  became  faces.  They  no  longer  floated 
detached  in  space,  but  belonged  definitely  to  human 
beings. 

"It  ain't  our  fault  if  you're  stove  up  some,  pard- 
ner.  You're  too  durned  anxious  to  whip  yore 
weight  in  wildcats,"  one  of  the  men  grinned. 

"Right  you  are,  Tom.  He  shore  hits  like  a  kick 
ing  mule,"  chimed  in  a  third,  nursing  a  cheek  that 
had  been  cut  open  to  the  bone. 


306  MAVERICKS 


A  fourth  spoke  up,  a  leather-faced  vaquero  with 
hard  eyes  of  jade.  "No  hard  feelings,  friend.  All 
in  the  way  of  business/'  With  which  he  gave  a  final 
tug  at  the  knot  that  tied  the  hands  of  his  prisoner. 

"I've  got  Mr.  Healy  to  thank  for  this,  I  expect/* 
commented  the  nester  quietly. 

"We've  got  no  rope  on  yore  expectations,  Mr. 
Keller;  but  this  outfit  doesn't  run  any  information 
bureau/'  answered  the  heavy-set,  sullen  fellow  who 
had  been  called  Brad. 

There  were  four  of  them,  all  masked;  but  the 
ranger  was  sure  of  one  of  them,  if  not  two.  The 
first  speaker  had  been  Tom  Dixon ;  the  last  one  was 
Brad  Irwin,  a  rider  belonging  to  the  Twin  Star  out 
fit. 

They  helped  the  bound  man  to  his  horse  and  held 
a  low-voiced  consultation.  Three  of  his  captors 
turned  their  horses  toward  the  south,  while  Irwin 
took  charge  of  Keller.  With  his  rifle  resting  across 
the  horn  of  his  saddle,  the  man  followed  his  charge 
up  the  trail,  winding  among  the  summits  that  stood 
as  sentinels  around  Gregory's  Pass.  Through  the 
defile  they  went,  descending  into  the  little-known 
mountain  parks  beyond. 

This  region  was  the  heart  of  the  watershed  where 
Little  Goose  Creek  heads.  The  peaks  rose  gaunt 
above  them.  Occasionally  they  glimpsed  wide  vistas 
of  tangled,  wooded  canons  and  hills  innumerable  as 
sea  billows.  Into  this  maze  they  plunged  ever  deeper 
and  deeper.  Daylight  came,  and  found  them  still 


MAVERICKS  307 


travelling.  The  prisoner  did  not  need  to  be  told  that 
this  inaccessible  country  was  the  lurking  place  of  the 
rustlers  who  had  preyed  so  long  upon  the  Malpais 
district  Nor  did  he  need  evidence  to  connect  the 
sinister  figure  behind  him  with  the  gang  of  outlaws 
who  rode  in  and  out  of  these  silent  places  on  their 
nefarious  night  errands  while  honest  folks  kept  their  ' 
beds. 

The  sun  was  well  up  to  its  meridian  before  they 
came  through  a  thick  clump  of  quaking  aspens  to 
the  mouth  of  a  gulch  opening  from  the  end  of  a  little 
mountain  park.  On  one  of  the  slopes  of  the  gulch 
a  cabin  squatted,  half  hidden  by  the  great  boulders 
and  the  matting  of  pine  boughs  in  front.  Here 
Brad  swung  stiffly  from  the  saddle. 

"We'll  'light  hyer,"  he  announced. 

"Time,  too,"  returned  Keller  easily.  "If  anybody 
asks  you,  tell  them  I  usually  eat  breakfast  some  be 
fore  ten  o'clock." 

"You'll  do  yore  eating  from  now  on  when  I  give 
the  word,"  his  guard  answered  surlily. 

He  was  a  big,  dark  man  with  a  grouch,  one  who 
took  his  duties  sourly.  Not  by  any  stretch  of  im 
agination  could  he  be  considered  a  brilliant  conversa 
tionalist.  What  he  had  to  say  he  growled  out  audi 
bly  enough,  but  for  the  rest  his  opinions  had  to  be 
cork-screwed  out  of  him  in  surly  monosyllables. 

There  was  a  good  deal  of  the  cave  man  about 
him.  The  heavy,  slouching  shoulders,  the  glare  of 
savagery,  the  long,  hairy  arms,  all  had  their  primor- 


808  MAVERICKS 


dial  suggestion.  Given  a  club  and  a  stone  ax,  he 
might  have  been  set  back  thousands  of  years  with  no 
injustice  to  his  mentality. 

The  man  soon  had  a  fire  blazing  in  the  stove,  and 
from  it  came  a  breakfast  of  bacon,  black  coffee,  and 
biscuits.  He  freed  the  hands  of  the  nester  and  sat 
opposite  him  at  the  table,  a  revolver  by  the  side  of 
his  plate  for  use  in  an  emergency. 

Keller  smiled.  "This  is  one  of  those  fashionable 
dinners  where  they  have  extra  hardware  beside  the 
plates/'  he  suggested. 

"Get  gay,  and  I'll  blow  the  top  of  yore  head  off!" 
the  cow-puncher  swore  with  gusto. 

"Thanks.  Under  the  circumstances,  I  reckon  I'll 
not  get  gay.  I'm  in  no  hurry  to  put  you  in  the  pen, 
seh.  Plenty  of  time.  I'm  going  to  need  the  top  of 
my  head  to  testify  against  you." 

Irwin  swore  violently. 

"For  two  cents  I'd  pump  you  full  of  holes  right 
now,"  he  glared. 

Keller  laughed,  meeting  him  eye  to  eye  pleasantly. 

"Those  aren't  the  orders,  friend.  I'm  to  be  held 
here  till  the  boss  shows  up  or  gives  the  signal." 

The  big  jaw  of  his  captor  fell  from  astonishment. 
"Who  told  you  that?" 

The  prisoner  helped  himself  to  more  bacon  and 
laughed  again.  He  had  made  a  guess,  but  he  knew 
now  that  he  had  hit  the  bull's-eye  with  his  shot  in 
the  dark. 

"Some  things  don't  need  telling.    I  don't  have  to 


MAVERICKS  309 


be  told,  for  instance,  that  if  things  get  too  hot  for 
Brill  Healy  he  will  slide  out  and  leave  you  to  settle 
the  bill  with  the  law." 

Irwin's  eyes  glared  angrily  at  his  smiling  ones. 
The  unabashed  impudence,  the  unfluttered  aplomb, 
but  above  all  the  uncanny  prescience  of  this  youth 
disturbed  him  because  he  could  not  understand  them. 
Moreover,  it  happened  that  his  suspicious  mind  had 
lingered  on  the  chance  of  a  betrayal  at  the  hands  of 
his  chief.  For  which  very  reason  he  broke  into  an 
gry  denial. 

"That's  a  lie !  Brill  ain't  that  sort.  He'd  stand 
pat  to  a  finish."  Then,  tardily,  came  the  instinct  for 
caution.  "And  there's  nothing  to  tell,  anyways."  he 
finished  sulkily. 

"Sure.  What's  a  little  rustling  and  a  little  bank 
robbing  among  friends?"  Keller  wanted  to  know 
cheerfully. 

For  just  an  instant  he  thought  he  had  gone  too 
far.  The  big  ruffian  opposite  chdked  over  his  bis^ 
cuit,  the  while  rage  purpled  his  face.  He  caught  up 
the  revolver,  and  his  fingers  itched  at  the  trigger. 

His  prisoner,  leaning  back  in  the  chair,  held  him 
with  quiet,  unwavering  eyes.  "Steady!  Steady!" 
he  drawled. 

"That  will  be  about  enough  from  you,"  Irwin  let 
out  through  set  teeth.  "You  padlock  that  mouth  of 
yours,  mister." 

Keller  took  his  advice  temporarily,  but  it  was  not 
in  him  to  long  repress  the  spirit  of  adventure  that 


310  MAVERICKS 


bubbled  in  him.  The  temptation  to  bait  this  bear 
drew  him  irresistibly.  He  could  not  let  him  alone, 
the  more  that  he  sensed  the  danger  to  himself  of 
the  prods  he  sent  home  through  the  thick  skin. 

Lying  carelessly  on  the  bed  with  his  head  on  his 
arm,  or  perhaps  sitting  astride  a  chair  with  his  hands 
crossed  on  the  back  support,  he  would  smile  with 
childlike  innocence  and  sent  his  barbs  in  gayly.  And 
Irwin,  murder  in  his  dull  brain,  would  glare  at  him 
like  a  maniac. 

"Now  would  be  a  good  time  to  blow  off  the  top  of 
my  cocoanut,"  the  nester  suggested  more  than  once 
to  the  infuriated  cave  man.  "I'm  allowing,  you 
know,  to  send  you  to  Yuma  as  soon  as  I  get  out  of 
this.  Nothing  like  grabbing  your  opportunity  by  the 
forelock." 

"And  when  are  you  expecting  to  get  out  of  here?" 
his  guard  demanded  huskily. 

Keller  waved  his  hand  with  airy  persiflage.  "No 
exact  information  obtainable,  my  friend.  Likely  to 
day.  Maybe  not  till  to-morrow.  The  one  dead-sure 
point  is  that  I'll  make  my  getaway  at  the  right  time." 

"There's  one  more  dead-sure  point — that  I'm  go 
ing  to  blow  holes  in  you  at  the  right  time,"  retorted 
the  other. 

"Like  to  bet  on  which  of  us  is  a  true  prophet  ?" 

Brad  relapsed  into  black,  sulky  silence. 

The  hours  followed  each  other,  and  still  nobody 
came  to  relieve  the  guard.  Keller  could  not  under- 


MAVERICKS  311 


stand  the  reason  for  this,  any  more  than  he  could 
fathom  an  adequate  one  for  his  abduction.  There 
was  of  course  something  behind  it — something  more 
potent  than  mere  malice.  If  the  intention  had  been 
merely  to  kill  him,  the  thing  could  have  been  done 
without  all  this  trouble.  But  though  he  searched  his 
brain  for  an  explanation,  he  could  not  find  one  that 
satisfied. 

The  answer  came  to  him  later  in  the  day.  In  the 
middle  of  the  afternoon  a  horse  pounded  up  the 
draw  to  the  cabin.  Irwin  went  to  the  door,  his  eye 
still  on  his  prisoner,  except  for  a  swift  glance  at  the 
newcomer. 

"How's  yore  five-thousand-dollar  beauty,  Brad?" 
inquired  a  voice  that  the  nester  recognized. 

"Finer  than  silk,  boss." 

The  rider  swung  from  the  saddle,  trailed  his  rein, 
and  came  with  jingling  spurs  into  the  cabin. 

"Good  evening,  Mr.  Keller,"  he  said  with  derisive 
respect. 

The  nester,  lying  sideways  on  the  bed  with  his 
head  on  his  hand,  nodded  a  greeting. 

"I  didn't  know  you  and  Mr.  Irwin  had  doubled 
up  and  were  bunkies,"  continued  the  jubilant  voice. 
"When  did  you-all  patch  up  the  partnership?" 

"About  eight  o'clock  last  night,  Mr.  Healy,"  re 
turned  the  prisoner,  eying  him  coolly.  "And  of 
course  I  knew  it  would  be  a  surprise  to  you  when 
you  learned  it." 


313  MAVERICKS 


"Expecting  to  stay  long  with  him  ?" 

"He  seems  right  hospitable,  but  I  don't  reckon  I'll 
outstay  my  welcome." 

Healy  laughed,  with  mockery  and  not  amusement. 
"Brad's  such  a  pressing  host  there's  no  telling  when 
he'll  let  you  go." 

He  was  as  malevolent  as  ever,  but  it  was  plain  to 
be  seen  that  he  was  riding  high  on  a  wave  of  tri 
umph.  Affairs  were  plainly  going  to  his  liking. 

"The  way  I  heard  it  you  were  expected  down  at 
the  Frying  Pan  last  night.  Changed  yore  mind  about 
going,  I  reckon/'  he  went  on  insolently. 

"I  reckon." 

"Had  business  that  detained  you,  maybe." 

"You're  a  good  guesser." 

"Folks  were  right  anxious  down  there,  according 
to  the  say-so  that  reached  me." 

Keller's  cool  eye  measured  him  in  silence,  at  which 
his  enemy  laughed  contemptuously  and  turned  on  his 
heel. 

Healy  drew  his  confederate  to  one  side  of  the 
room  and  held  a  whispered  talk  with  him.  Appar 
ently  he  did  not  greatly  care  whether  his  foe  catight 
the  drift  of  it  or  not,  for  occasionally  his  voice 
lifted  enough  so  that  scraps  of  sentences  reached 
the  man  lounging  on  the  bed. 

" — close  to  two  hundred  head — by  the  Mimbres 
Pass — the  boys  are  ce'tainly  pushing  the  drive — out 
of  danger  by  midnight — wait  for  the  signal  before 
you  turn  him  loose " 


MAVERICKS  SIS 


"So-long,  Mr.  Keller.  I  cayn't  spare  the  time  to 
stay  longer  with  you,"  their  owner  jeered. 

"Just  a  moment,  Mr.  Healy.  I  want  to  know 
why  you  are  keeping  me  here." 

The  man  grinned.  "Am  I  keeping  you  here,  seh  ? 
Looks  to  me  like  it  was  Brad  that's  a-keeping  you. 
Make  a  break  for  a  getaway,  and  I'll  not  do  a  thing 
to  you.  Course  I  cayn't  promise  what  Brad  won't 
do.  He's  such  a  plumb  anxious  host." 

"You're  his  brains.  What  you  tell  him  to  do  he 
does.  I  hold  you  responsible  for  this !" 

"You  don't  say!" 

"And  right  now  I'll  add,  for  all  the  devilment  that 
has  been  going  on  in  these  parts  for  years.  You've 
about  reached  the  end  of  your  rope,  though." 

"I'll  bet  dollars  to  doughnuts  you  reach  the  end  of 
one  inside  of  forty-eight  hours,  Mr.  Rustler,"  flashed 
back  Healy. 

And  with  an  evil,  significant  grin  he  was  gone. 
They  heard  the  sound  of  retreating  hoofs  die  in  the 
distance. 

But  his  visit  had  told  the  prisoner  two  things.  A 
hurried  wholesale  drive  of  rustled  cattle  was  being 
made  across  the  line  into  Sonora,  and  it  was  being 
done  in  such  a  way  as  to  fasten  the  suspicion  of  it 
upon  the  nester  who  had  not  appeared  at  the  dance 
and  had  not  been  seen  since  that  time.  The  irony 
of  the  thing  was  superb  in  its  audacity.  Healy  and 
his  friends  would  get  the  profit  from  the  stolen  cat 
tle,  and  they  would  visit  the  punishment  for  the 


8141  MAVERICKS 


crime  upon  him.  Evidence  would  be  cooked  up  of 
course,  and  the  retribution  would  be  so  swift  that  his 
friends  would  not  be  able  to  save  him.  This  time 
his  enemy  would  take  no  chances.  He  would  be 
wiped  out  like  a  troublesome  insect.  The  thing  was 
diabolic  in  the  simplicity  of  its  cleverness. 

Keller  watched  his  jailer  now  like  a  hawk.  He 
was  ready  to  take  the  first  chance  that  offered,  no 
matter  how  slight  a  one  it  seemed.  But  the  man 
was  vigilant  and  wary.  He  never  let  his  hand 
wander  a  foot  from  the  handle  of  the  weapon  he 
carried. 

Silently  Irwin  cooked  a  second  meal.  They  sat 
down  to  it  opposite  each  other,  Keller  facing  the 
open  window.  While  his  jailer  plied  the  knife^  his 
revolver  again  lay  on  the  oilcloth  within  reach. 

"While  I'm  your  guest  and  eating  at  your  ex 
pense,  I  want  to  be  properly  grateful,"  the  nester 
told  his  vis-a-vis.  "Some  folks  might  kick  because 
the  me-an'-you  wasn't  more  varied,  but  I  ain't  that 
kind.  You're  doing  your  best,  and  nobody  could  do 
more." 

"The  which  ?"  asked  Irwin  puzzled. 

"The  me-an'-you.  It's  French  for  just  plain  grub. 
For  breakfast  we  get  bacon  and  coffee  and  biscuits. 
For  supper  there's  a  variety.  This  time  it  is  biscuits 
and  coffee  and  bacon.  To-morrow  I  reckon " 

Keller  stopped  halfway  in  his  sentence,  but  took 
up  his  drawling  comment  again  instantly.  Only  an 
added  sparkle  in  his  eyes  betrayed  the  change  that 


MAVERICKS  315 


had  suddenly  wiped  out  his  indolence  and  left  him 
tense  and  alert.  For  while  he  had  been  speaking  a 
head  had  slowly  raised  itself  above  the  window  case 
ment  and  two  eyes  had  looked  in  and  met  his.  They 
belonged  to  Phil  Sanderson. 

Never  had  the  brain  of  the  prisoner  been  more 
'alert.  While  his  garrulous  tongue  ran  aimlessly  on, 
he  considered  ways  and  means.  The  boy  held  up 
empty  hands  to  show  him  that  he  was  unarmed. 
The  nester  did  not  by  the  flicker  of  an  eyelash  be 
tray  the  presence  of  a  third  party  to  the  man  at  table 
with  him.  Nevertheless  his  chatter  became  from 
that  moment  addressed  to  two  listeners.  To  one  it 
meant  nothing  in  particular.  To  the  other  it  was 
pregnant  with  meaning. 

"No,  seh.  Some  might  complain  because  you 
ain't  better  provided  with  grub  and  fixings,  but  what 
I  say  is  to  make  out  the  best  we  can  with  what  we've 
got,"  the  slow,  drawling  voice  continued.  "Some 
folks  cayn't  get  along  unless  things  are  up  to  the 
Delmonico  standard.  That's  plumb  foolishness.  Re 
minds  me  of  a  friend  of  mine  that  happened  on  a 
grizzly  onct  while  he  was  cutting  trail. 

"Not  expecting  to  meet  Mr.  Bear,  he  didn't  have 
;any  gun  along.  Mr.  Bear  was  surely  on  the  wah- 
path  that  day.  He  made  a  bee  line  for  my  friend  to 
get  better  acquainted.  Nothing  like  presence  of 
mind.  That  cow-puncher  got  his  rope  coiled  in 
three  shakes  of  a  maverick's  tail,  his  pinto  bucking 
for  fair  to  make  his  getaway.  The  rope  drapped 


816  MAVERICKS 


over  Mr.  Bear's  head  just  as  the  puncher  and  the 
hawss  separated  company. 

"Things  were  doing  right  sudden  then.  My  friend 
grabbed  the  end  of  that  rope  and  twisted  it  round 
and  round  a  young  live  oak.  Then  he  remembered 
an  appointment  and  lit  out,  Mr.  Bear  after  him  on 
the  jump.  Muy  pronto  that  grizzly  came  up  awful 
sudden.  The  more  he  jerked  the  nearer  he  was  to 
being  choked.  You  better  believe  Mr.  Puncher  was 
hitting  that  trail  right  willing  in  the  meanwhile." 

"You  talk  too  much  with  yore  mouth,"  growled 
Irwin. 

"It's  a  difference  of  opinion  that  makes  horse 
races.  I  was  just  aiming  to  show  you  that  if  my 
friend  hadn't  happened  to  have  a  rope  along  he 
would  have  been  in  a  bad  fix.  But,  you  notice,  he 
used  his  brains,  and  a  rope  did  just  as  well  as  a 
gun/' 

The  eyes  just  above  the  window  casing  disap 
peared.  Brad  attended  to  the  business  in  hand, 
which  was  that  of  getting  away  with  bacon  and  bis 
cuits  while  he  kept  an  eye  on  the  man  opposite.  His 
prisoner  also  did  justice  to  his  supper,  to  his  flow 
of  conversation,  and  to  the  window  behind  the  un 
conscious  jailer. 

In  that  open  window  were  presently  framed  again 
the  head  and  shoulders  of  young  Sanderson.  Ir 
win  pushed  back  his  chair  to  get  some  more  coffee, 
and  the  picture  in  the  frame  shot  instantly  down. 
The  guard,  his  coffee  cup,  and  his  revolver  went  to 


MAVERICKS  317 


the  stove  and  returned.  Phil  reappeared  at  the  win 
dow,  his  rope  coiled  for  action.  It  slid  gracefully 
forward,  dropped  over  the  head  of  Brad,  and  was 
instantly  jerked  tight. 

Keller  vaulted  across  the  table,  and  flung  himself 
upon  the  struggling  man.  Brad's  arms  were  en 
tangled  in  the  rope,  but  one  leg  shot  out  and  hurled 
back  the  nester.  But  before  he  could  free  himself 
from  the  taut  loop  his  prisoner  was  upon  him  again 
and  had  borne  him  to  the  ground. 

Of  the  two,  Irwin  was  far  the  more  powerful, 
Keller  the  more  agile  and  supple.  He  knew  every 
trick  of  the  wrestling  game,  whereas  the  other  was 
clumsy  and  muscle-bound.  By  main  strength  the 
older  man  got  to  his  feet  again.  Over  went  the  table 
as  they  surged  against  it. 

A  chair,  stamped  into  kindling,  was  hurled  aside 
by  the  force  of  their  impact.  The  stove  rocked,  and 
the  bed  collapsed  as  the  locked  figures  crashed 
down  upon  it.  The  ranger,  twisting  as  they  fell, 
landed  on  top  and  his  fingers  instantly  found  the 
throat  of  his  foe.  Simultaneously  Phil  came  to  his 
assistance. 

Even  then,  taken  at  an  advantage,  with  two  much 
younger  men  against  him,  the  big  jailer  fought  to 
the  finish  like  a  bear.  Not  till  he  was  completely  ex 
hausted  and  they  nearly  so  did  he  give  up  and  lie 
quiet.  All  three  of  them  panted  heavily,  the  allies  ly 
ing  across  his  chest  and  legs.  The  nester  managed 
to  draw  the  loop  taut  about  Irwin's  neck  and  insert 


318  MAVERICKS 


his  knuckles  so  that  he  could  use  them  as  a  tourni 
quet  if  necessary. 

"Gather  up  the  other  end  of  the  rope,  loop  it,  and 
tie  his  feet  together,"  the  nester  ordered,  getting  his 
sentence  out  in  fragmentary  jerks. 

Phil  did  so,  deftly  and  expertly,  after  which,  in 
spite  of  renewed  struggles,  they  tied  the  hands  of 
their  prisoner  behind  his  back. 

"Looks  like  a  cyclone  had  hit  the  room,"  said  the 
boy,  glancing  at  the  debris. 

Larrabie  laughed.  "He's  the  most  willing  mixer 
I  ever  saw." 

"What  are  you  going  to  do  with  him?" 

"We'll  leave  him  tied  right  where  he  is.  When 
we  get  down  into  the  settlement  we'll  notify  his 
friends,  though  I  reckon  they'll  find  him  without 
any  help  from  us." 

In  order  to  make  sure  they  went  over  the  knots 
again,  tightening  them  here  and  there.  The  re 
volver  and  the  rifle  of  the  bound  man  they  appro 
priated.  The  nester's  horse  was  in  a  little  corral 
back  of  the  house.  He  saddled,  and  shortly  the  two 
were  on  the  back  trail.  Phil  knew  the  country  as  a 
golfer  knows  his  links.  To  him  Keller  put  the  ques 
tion  in  his  mind :  > 

"How  far  is  the  Mimbres  Pass  from  here,  and  in* 
what  direction?" 

The  younger  man  looked  at  him  in  surprise.  "A 
dozen  miles,  I  reckon.  See  that  cleft  over  there? 
That's  the  Mimbres." 


MAVERICKS  319 


His  friend  drew  rein  and  looked  with  level  eyes 
at  him. 

"Phil,  it's  come  to  a  show-down!  Are  you  for 
Brill  Healy  or  are  you  for  me?" 

"I'm  through  with  Brill." 

"Dead  sure  of  that?" 

"Dead  sure.     Why?" 

"Because  you've  got  to  make  your  choice  to-night 
whether  you're  going  to  stand  with  honest  men  or 
thieves.  Healy's  gang  is  rustling  a  bunch  of  cows 
gathered  at  the  round-up.  They're  heading  for 
Mimbres  Pass.  I'm  going  to  stop  them  if  I  can." 

"I'm  with  you,  Larry." 

"Good !    I  was  sure  of  you,  Phil." 

The  boy  flushed,  but  his  eyes  did  not  waver.  "I 
want  to  tell  you  something.  That  day  we  most 
caught  you  over  the  dead  cow  of  the  C.  O.  outfit 
Brill  was  carrying  Phyl's  knife.  I  had  lent  it  to  him 
the  night  before." 

Keller  nodded.     "I  had  figured  it  out  that  way." 

"But  that  ain't  all.  Once  when  I  was  cutting  trail 
in  the  hills — must  have  been  about  six  months  before 
that  time — I  happened  on  Brill  driving  a  calf  still 
bleeding  from  the  brand  he  had  put  on  it. 

"I  didn't  think  anything  of  that,  but  I  noticed  he 
was  anxious  to  have  me  turn  and  join  him.  But  I 
kept  on  the  way  I  was  going,  and  just  by  a  miracle 
my  pony  almost  stumbled  over  a  dead  cow  lying  in 
the  brush.  That  set  me  thinking.  That  night  I 
over  to  Healy's  and  asked  an  explanation. 


320  MAVERICKS 


"He  had  one  ready.  Some  one  else  must  have 
killed  the  cow.  He  found  the  calf  wandering  about 
alone,  and  branded  it.  Somehow  his  story  didn't 
quite  satisfy  me,  but  I  wasn't  ready  then  to  think 
him  a  coyote.  I  liked  him — always  had.  And  it 
flattered  me  that  he  had  picked  me  out  to  be  his  best 
friend.  So  I  said  nothing,  and  figured  it  out  that 
he  was  on  the  square.  Of  course  I  knew  he  was 
reckless  and  wild,  but  I  didn't  like  him  any  the  less 
for  that.  I  reckon  nobody  ever  accused  him  of  not 
being  game." 

"Hardly,"  smiled  Keller.  "He'll  stand  the  acid 
that  way." 

"The  thing  that  stuck  in  my  craw  was  his  lying 
about  seeing  you  on  the  night  of  the  bank  robbery. 
He  said  you  were  riding  the  roan  with  white  stock 
ings.  Later  we  found  out  that  couldn't  be  true. 
Then  I  knew  Jim  was  telling  the  truth  about  you 
being  with  him  in  the  hills  at  the  time.  It  kind  of 
sifted  to  me  by  degrees  that  you  were  a  white  man 
and  he  was  a  skunk." 

"And  then?" 

"Then  we  had  it  out  one  day.  He  had  his  reason 
for  wanting  to  stand  well  with  me.  I  reckon  you 
know  what  it  is." 

"I  know  his  reason.  No  man  could  have  a  better. 
I  reckon  I've  a  right  to  think  so,  Phil,  because  she 
has  promised  to  marry  me." 

The  boy  shook  hands  with  him  impulsively.    "I'm 


MAVERICKS  321 


right  glad  to  hear  it — and  I  want  to  say  they  don't 
make  girls  any  better  than  Phyl." 

"That's  not  news  to  me.  I  have  known  it  since 
the  first  time  I  saw  her." 

Sanderson  returned  to  the  order  of  the  day. 
"Well,  Brill  and  I  had  had  one  or  two  tiffs,  mostly 
about  you  and  Phyl.  He  saw  I  was  changed  to 
ward  him,  and  he  wanted  to  know  why.  I  let  him 
have  it  straight,  and  since  then  we  haven't  been 
friends." 

"I'm  glad  of  that.  It  makes  plain  sailing  for  mg. 
He's  got  to  be  run  down  and  caged,  Phil.  Healy  is 
at  the  head  of  all  this  rustling  that  has  been  trem 
bling  the  Malpais  country.  His  gang  stuck  up  the 
Diamond  Nugget  stage,  killed  Sheriff  Fowler,  and 
robbed  the  Noches  Bank." 

"How  could  he  have  robbed  the  bank  when  he 
was  seen  fifty  miles  from  there  not  two  hours  after 
ward?" 

Keller  briefly  explained  his  theorv  then  pushed 
on  at  once  to  his  plans. 

"I'm  going  to  make  straight  for  the  Mimbres 
Pass  while  you  go  back  and  rustle  help.  I'll  try  to 
keep  them  from  getting  through  the  Pass  until  you 
close  in  on  them  behind." 

"That  don't  look  good  to  me.  How  do  I  know 
how  long  it  will  be  before  I  can  gather  the  boys 
together  or  find  Jim  and  his  outfit?  You  might  be 
massacred  before  I  got  back." 


MAVERICKS 


"A  man  has  to  take  his  fighting  chance." 

"Then  let  me  take  mine.  We'll  hold  the  pass  to 
gether.  I'll  bet  we  can.  Don't  you  reckon?" 

"What  use  would  you  be  without  a  rifle?  No, 
Phil,  you'll  have  to  bring  up  the  reinforcements. 
That's  the  best  tactics." 

Sanderson  protested  eagerly,  but  in  the  end  was 
overborne.  They  turned  their  backs  upon  each 
other,  one  headed  for  the  Mimbres  and  the  other 
for  the  trail  that  ran  down  to  the  Malpais  country, 


CHAPTER  XXVI 

THE   MAN-HUNT 

When  Jim  Yeager  separated  from  Phil  after  their 
discovery  of  Keller's  hat  and  the  deductions  they 
drew  from  it,  the  former  turned  his  pony  toward  the 
Frying  Pan.  Daylight  had  already  broken  before 
he  came  in  sight  of  it,  but  sounds  of  revelry  still 
issued  boisterously  from  the  house. 

As  he  drew  near  there  came  to  him  the  squeal  of 
sawing  fiddles,  the  high-pitched  voice  of  the  dance 
caller  in  sing-song  drawl,  the  shuffling  of  feet  keep 
ing  time  to  the  rhythm  of  the  music.  For  though 
a  new  day  was  at  hand,  the  quadrilles  continued 
with  unflagging  vigor,  one  succeeding  another  as 
soon  as  the  floor  was  cleared. 

The  cow  country  takes  its  amusements  seriously. 
A  dance  is  infrequent  enough  to  be  an  event.  Men 
and  women  do  not  ride  or  drive  from  thirty  to  fifty 
miles  without  expecting  to  drink  the  last  drop  of 
pleasure  there  may  be  in  the  occasion. 

As  Jim  swung  from  the  saddle,  a  slim  figure  in 
white  glided  from  the  shadow  of  the  wild  cucum 
ber  vines  that  rioted  over  one  end  of  the  porch. 

"Well,  Jim?" 

323 


MAVERICKS 


The  man  came  to  the  point  with  characteristic  di 
rectness.  "He  has  been  waylaid,  Phyl.  We  found 
his  hat  and  the  place  where  they  ambushed  him." 

"Is  he "  Her  voice  died  at  the  word,  but  her 

meaning  was  clear. 

"I  don't  think  it.  Looks  like  they  were  aiming-  to 
take  him  prisoner  without  hurting  him.  They  might 
easily  have  shot  him  down,  but  the  ground  shows 
there  was  a  struggle." 

"And  you  came  back  without  rescuing  him?"  she 
reproached. 

"Phil  and  I  were  unarmed.  I  came  back  to  get 
guns  and  help." 

"And  Phil?" 

"He's  following  the  trail.  I  wanted  him  to  let  me 
while  he  came  back.  But  he  wouldn't  hear  to  it. 
Said  he  had  to  square  his  debt  to  Larry." 

"Good  for  Phil !"  his  sister  cried,  eyes  like  stars. 

"Is  Brill  still  here?"  he  asked. 

"No.  He  rode  away  about  an  hour  ago.  He  was 
very  bitter  at  me  because  I  wouldn't  dance  with  him. 
Said  I'd  curse  myself  for  it  before  twenty- four  hours 
had  passed.  He  must  have  Larry  in  his  power, 
Jim." 

"Looks  like,"  he  nodded,  and  added  grimly:  "If 
you  do  any  regretting  there  will  be  others  that  will, 
too." 

She  caught  the  lapels  of  his  coat  and  looked  into 
his  face  with  extraordinary  intensity.  "I'm  going 
back  with  you,  Jim.  You'll  let  me,  won't  you  ?  I've 


MAVERICKS  325 


waited — and  waited.  You  can't  think  what  an  aw 
ful  night  it  has  been.  I  can't  stand  it  any  longer! 
I'll  go  mad!  Oh,  Jim,  you'll  take  me,  I  know!" 
Her  hands  slipped  down  to  his  and  clung  to  them 
with  passionate  entreaty. 

"Why,  honey,  I  cayn't.  This  is  likely  to  be  war 
before  we  finish.  It  ain't  any  place  for  girls." 

"I'll  stay  back,  Jim.  I'll  do  whatever  you  say,  if 
you'll  only  let  me  go." 

He  shook  his  head  resolutely.  "Cayn't  be  done, 
girl.  I'm  sorry,  but  you  see  yourself  it  won't  do/' 

Nor  could  all  her  beseechings  move  him.  Though 
his  heart  was  very  tender  toward  her  he  was  granite 
to  her  pleadings.  At  last  he  put  her  aside  gently 
and  stepped  into  the  house. 

Going  at  once  to  the  fiddlers,  he  stopped  the  mu 
sic  and  stood  on  the  little  rostrum  where  they  were 
seated.  Surprised  faces  turned  toward  him. 

"What's  up,  Jim?"  demanded  Slim,  his  arm  still 
about  the  waist  of  Bess  Purdy. 

"A  man  was  waylaid  while  coming  to  this  dance 
and  taken  prisoner  by  his  enemies.  They  mean  to 
do  him  a  mischief.  I  want  volunteers  to  rescue 
him." 

"Who  is  it  ?"  several  voices  cried  at  once. 

"The  man  I  mean  is  Larrabie  Keller." 

A  pronounced  silence  followed  before  Slim 
drawled  an  answer: 

"Cayn't  speak  for  the  other  boys,  but  I  reckon  I 
haven't  lost  any  Kellers,  Jim." 


326  MAVERICKS 


"Why  not?     What  have  you  got  against  him?" 

"You  know  well  enough.  He's  under  a  cloud. 
We  don't  say  he's  a  rustler  and  a  bank  robber,  but 
then  we  don't  say  he  ain't/' 

"I  say  he  isn't!  Boys,  it  has  come  to  a  show- 
}  down.  Keller  is  a  member  of  the  Rangers,  sent  here 
by  Bucky  O'Connor  to  run  down  the  rustlers." 

Questions  poured  upon  him. 

"How  do  you  know?" 

"How  long  have  you  known?" 

"Who  told  you?" 

"Why  didn't  he  tell  us  so  himself,  then?" 

Jim  waited  till  they  were  quiet.  "I've  seen  letters 
from  the  governor  to  him.  He  didn't  come  here  de- 
daring  his  intentions  because  he  knew  there  would 
be  nothing  doing  if  the  rustlers  knew  he  was  in  the 
neighborhood.  He  has  about  done  his  work  now, 
and  it's  up  to  us  to  save  him  before  they  bump  him 
off.  Who  will  ride  with  me  to  rescue  him  ?" 

There  was  no  hesitation  now. 

Every  man  pushed  forward  to  have  a  hand  in  it. 

"Good  enough,"  nodded  Yeager.  "We'll  want 
rifles,  boys.  Looks  to  me  like  hell  might  be  a-pop- 
ping  before  mo'ning  grows  very  ancient.  We'll  set 
jout  from  Turkey  Creek  Crossroads  two  hours  from 
now.  Any  man  not  on  hand  then  will  get  left  be 
hind. 

"And  remember — this  is  a  man  hunt!  No  talk 
ing,  boys.  We  don't  want  the  news  that  we're  com 
ing  spread  all  over  the  hills  before  we  arrive." 


MAVERICKS  327 


As  Jim  descended  from  the  rostrum,  his  roving- 
gaze  fell  on  Phyl  Sanderson  standing  in  the  door 
way.  Her  fears  had  stolen  the  color  even  from  her 
lips,  but  the  girl's  beauty  had  never  struck  him  more 
poignantly. 

Misery  stared  at  him  out  of  her  fine  eyes,  yet  the 
unconscious  courage  of  her  graceful  poise — erect, 
with  head  thrown  back  so  that  he  could  even  see  the 
pulse  beat  in  the  brown  throat — suggested  anything 
but  supine  surrender  to  her  terror.  Before  he  could 
reach  her  she  had  slipped  into  the  night,  and  he 
could  not  find  her. 

Men  dribbled  in  to  the  Turkey  Creek  Crossroads 
along  as  many  trails  as  the  ribs  of  a  fan  running  to 
a  common  centre.  Jim  waited,  watch  open,  and 
when  it  said  that  seven  o'clock  had  come  he  snapped 
it  shut  and  gave  the  word  to  set  out. 

It  was  a  grim,  business-like  posse,  composed  of 
good  men  and  true  who  had  been  sifted  in  the  im 
partial  sieve  of  life  on  the  turbid  frontier.  More 
over,  they  were  well  led.  A  certain  hard  metallic 
quality  showed  in  the  voice  and  eye  of  Jim  Yeager 
that  boded  no  good  for  the  man  who  faced  him  in 
combat  to-day.  He  rode  with  his  gaze  straight  to 
the  front,  toward  that  cleft  in  the  hills  where  layt 
Gregory's  Pass.  The  others  fell  in  behind,  a  silent, 
hard-bitten  outfit  as  ever  took  the  trail  for  that  most 
dangerous  of  all  big  game — the  hidden  outlaw. 

The  little  bundi  of  riders  had  not  gone  far  be- 


328  MAVERICKS 


fore  Purdy,  who  was  riding  in  the  rear,  called  to 
Yeager. 

"Somebody  coming  hell-to-split  after  us,  Jim." 

It  turned  out  to  be  Buck  Weaver,  who  had  been 
notified  by  telephone  of  what  was  taking  place.  A 
girl  had  called  him  up  out  of  his  sleep,  and  he  had 
pounded  the  road  hard  to  get  in  at  the  finish. 

Jim  explained  the  situation  in  a  few  words  and 
offered  to  yield  command  to  the  owner  of  the  Twin 
Star  ranch.  But  Buck  declined. 

"You're  the  boss  of  this  rodeo,  Yeager.  I'm  rid 
ing  in  the  ranks  to-day." 

"How  did  you  hear  we  were  rounding-up  to 
day?"  Jim  asked. 

"Some  one  called  me  up,"  Buck  answered  briefly, 
but  he  did  not  think  it  necessary  to  say  that  it  was 
Phyllis. 

Behind  them,  unnoticed  by  any,  sometimes  hid 
den  from  sight  by  the  rise  and  fall  of  the  rough 
ground,  sometimes  silhouetted  against  the  sky  line, 
rode  a  slim,  supple  figure  on  a  white-faced  cow  pony. 
Once,  when  the  fresh  morning  wind  swept  down  a 
gulch  at  an  oblique  angle,  it  lifted  for  an  instant 
from  the  stirrup  leather  what  might  have  been  a 
'gray  flag.  But  the  flag  was  only  a  skirt,  and  it  sig- 
.  nailed  nothing  more  definite  than  the  courage  and 
devotion  of  a  girl  who  knew  that  the  men  she  loved 
best  on  earth  were  in  danger. 


CHAPTER  XXVII 

THE  ROUND-UP 

The  Mimbres  Pass  narrows  toward  the  southern 
exit  where  Point  o'  Rocks  juts  into  the  canon  and 
commands  it  like  a  sentinel.  Toward  this  column 
of  piled  boulders  slowly  moved  a  cloud  of  white 
dust,  at  the  base  of  which  crept  a  band  of  hard- 
driven  cattle.  Swollen  tongues  were  out,  heads 
stretched  forward  in  a  bellow  for  water  taken  up  by 
one  as  another  dropped  it.  The  day  was  still  hot, 
though  the  sun  had  slipped  down  over  the  range, 
and  the  drove  had  been  worked  forward  remorse 
lessly.  Every  inch  that  could  be  sweated  out  of 
them  had  been  gained. 

For  those  that  pushed  them  along  were  in  des 
perate  hurry.  Now  and  again  a  rider  would  twist 
round  in  his  saddle  to  sweep  back  a  haggard  glance. 
Dust  enshrouded  them,  lay  heavy  on  every  exposed 
inch;  but  through  it  seams  of  anxiety  crevassed  their 
leathern  faces.  Iron  men  they  were,  with  one  ex 
ception.  Fight  they  could  and  would  to  the  last 
ditch.  But  behind  the  jaded,  stony  eyes  lay  a  haunt 
ing  fear,  the  never-ending  dread  of  a  pursuit  that 
might  burst  upon  them  at  any  moment.  Driven  to 

329 


330  MAVERICKS 


the  wall,  they  would  have  faced  the  enemy  like 
tigers,  with  a  fierce,  exultant  hate.  It  was  the  never- 
ending  possibility  of  disaster  that  lay  heavily  upon 
them. 

Just  as  they  entered  the  pass,  a  man  came  spurring 
up  the  steep  trail  behind  them.  The  drag  drivers 
shouted  a  warning  to  those  in  front  and  waited 
alertly  with  weapons  ready.  The  man  trying  to 
overtake  them  waved  a  sombrero  as  a  flag  of  truce. 

"Keep  an  eye  on  him,  Tom.  If  he  makes  a  move 
that  don't  look  good  to  you,  plug  him !"  ordered  the 
keen-eyed  man  beside  one  of  the  drag  drivers. 

"I'm  bridle  wise,  boss."  But  though  he  spoke 
with  bravado  Dixon  shook  like  an  aspen  in  a  breeze. 

The  man  he  had  called  boss  looked  every  inch  a 
leader.  He  rode  with  the  loose  seat  and  the  straight 
back  of  the  Westerner  to  the  saddle  born.  Just  now 
he  was  looking  back  with  impassive,  reddened  eyes 
at  the  approaching  figure. 

"Hold  on,  Tom!  Don't  shoot!  It's  Brad,"  he 
decided.  "And  I  wonder  what  in  Mexico  he  is  do 
ing  here." 

The  leader  of  the  outlaws  was  soon  to  learn.  Ir- 
win  told  the  story  of  the  strategy  that  had  changed 
him  from  jailer  to  prisoner  and  of  the  way  he  had 
later  freed  himself  from  the  rope  that  bound  him. 

Healy  unloaded  his  sentiments  with  an  emphasis 
that  did  the  subject  justice.  Nevertheless  he  could 
not  see  that  their  plans  were  seriously  affected. 

"It's  a  leetle  premature,  but  his  getaway  doesn't 


MAVERICKS  331 


cut  any  ice.  What  we  want  to  do  is  to  nail  him, 
clamp  the  evidence  home,  and  put  him  out  of  busi 
ness  before  his  friends  can  say  Jack  Robinson.  The 
story  now  is  that  he  was  caught  driving  a  little 
bunch  of  cows  to  met  the  big  bunch  his  pals  were, 
rustling,  and  that  we  left  him  in  charge  of  Brad; 
while  we  tried  to  run  down  the  other  waddies.  Un 
derstand,  boys?" 

They  did,  and  admired  the  more  the  versatility  of 
a  leader  who  could  make  plans  on  the  spur  of  the 
moment  to  meet  any  emergency. 

"We'll  push  right  on,  boys.  Once  we  get  through 
the  pass  it  will  trouble  anybody  to  find  us.  Before 
mo'ning  you'll  be  across  the  line/' 

"And  you,  Brill?" 

"I'm  going  back  to  settle  accounts  for  good  and 
all  with  Mr.  Keller,"  answered  Healy  grimly  be 
tween  set  teeth.  "I've  got  a  notion  about  him.  I 
believe  he's  a  spy." 

Just  before  Point  o'  Rocks  a  defile  runs  into  the 
Mimbres  Pass  at  right  angles.  The  leaders  of  the 
cattle,  pushed  forward  by  the  pressure  from  behind, 
stopped  for  a  moment,  and  stood  bawling  at  the 
junction.  A  rider  spurred  forward  to  keep  them 
from  attempting  the  gulch.  Suddenly  he  dragged 
hi?,  pony  to  its  haunches,  so  quickly  did  he  stop  it 
For  a  clear  voice  had  called  down  a  warning  as  if 
from  the  heavens : 

"You  can't  go  this  way !    The  Pass  is  closed  P 

The  rider  looked  up  in  amazement,  and  beheld  a 


832  MAVERICKS 


man  standing  on  the  ledge  above  with  a  rifle  rest 
ing  easily  across  his  forearm. 

"By  Heaven,  it's  Keller !"  the  rustler  muttered. 

He  wheeled  as  on  a  half  dollar,  pushed  his  way 
back  along  the  edge  of  the  wall  past  the  cattle,  and 
shouted  to  his  chief : 

"We're  trapped,  Brill!" 

None  of  the  outlaws  needed  that  notification. 
Five  pair  of  eyes  had  lifted  to  the  ledge  upon  which 
Keller  stood.  The  shock  of  the  surprise  paralyzed 
them  for  an  instant.  For  it  occurred  to  none  of  the 
five  that  this  man  would  be  standing  there  so  quietly 
unless  he  were  backed  by  a  posse  sufficient  to  over 
power  them.  He  had  not  the  manner  of  a  man  tak 
ing  a  desperate  chance.  The  situation  was  as  dra 
matic  as  life  and  death,  but  the  voice  that  had  come 
down  to  them  had  been  as  matter-of-fact  as  if  it  had 
asked  some  one  to  pass  him  a  cup  of  coffee  at  the 
breakfast  table. 

The  temper  of  the  outlaws'  metal  showed  in 
stantly.  Dixon  dropped  his  rifle,  threw  up  his 
hands,  and  ran  bleating  to  the  cover  of  some  large 
rocks,  imploring  the  imagined  posse  not  to  shoot. 
Others  found  silently  what  shelter  they  could. 
Healy  alone  took  reckless  counsel  of  his  hate. 

Flinging  his  rifle  to  his  shoulder,  he  blazed  away 
at  the  figure  on  the  ledge — once,  twice,  three  times. 
When  the  smoke  cleared  the  ranger  was  no  longer 
to  be  seen.  He  was  lying  flat  on  his  rock  like  a 
lizard,  where  he  had  dropped  just  as  his  enemy 


MAVERICKS  333 


whipped  up  his  weapon  to  fire.  Cold  as  chilled  steel, 
in  spite  of  the  fire  of  passion  that  blazed  within  him, 
Healy  slid  to  the  ground  on  the  far  side  of  his  horse 
and,  without  exposing  himself,  slowly  worked  to 
the  loose  boulders  bordering  the  edge  of  the  canon 
bed. 

The  bawling  of  the  cattle  and  the  faint  whimper 
ing  of  Dixon  alone  disturbed  the  silence.  Healy  and 
his  confederates  were  waiting  for  the  other  side  to 
show  its  hand.  Meanwhile  the  leader  of  the  out 
laws  was  thinking  out  the  situation. 

"I  believe  there's  only  two  of  them,  Bart,"  he 
confided  in  a  low  voice  to  the  big  fellow  lying  near. 
"Keller  must  have  heard  us  when  we  talked  it  over 
at  the  shack.  I  reckon  he  and  Phil  hit  the  trail  for 
here  immediate.  They  hadn't  time  to  go  back  and 
rustle  help  and  still  get  here  before  us. 

"We'll  make  Mr.  Keller  table  his  cards.  I'm  go 
ing  to  try  to  rush  the  cattle  through.  We'll  see  at 
once  what's  doing.  If  they  are  too  many  for  us  to 
do  that  we'll  break  for  the  gulch  and  fight  our  way 
out — that  is,  if  we  find  we're  hemmed  in  behind, 
too." 

He  called  to  the  rest  of  the  bandits  and  gave  crisp 
instructions.  At  sound  of  his  sharp  whistle  four 
men  leaped  into  sight,  each  making  for  his  horse. 
Dixon  alone  did  not  answer  to  the  call.  He  lay  white 
and  trembling  behind  the  rock  that  sheltered  him, 
physically  unable  to  rise  and  face  the  bullets  that 
would  rain  down  upon  him. 


334  MAVERICKS 


Keller,  watching  alertly  from  above,  guessed  what 
they  would  be  at.  His  rifle  cracked  twice,  and  two 
of  the  horses  staggered,  one  of  them  collapsing' 
slowly.  He  had  to  show  himself,  and  for  three 
heartbeats  stood  exposed  to  the  fire  of  four  rifles. 
One  bullet  fanned  his  cheek,  a  second  plunged 
through  his  coat  sleeve,  a  third  struck  the  rock  at 
his  feet.  While  the  echoes  were  still  crashing,  he 
was  flat  on  his  rock  again,  peering  over  the  edge  to 
see  their  next  move. 

"He's  alone,"  cried  Healy  jubilantly.  "Must  have 
sent  the  kid  back  for  help.  Bart,  get  Dixon's  gun, 
steal  up  the  ravine,  and  take  him  in  the  rear.  I'd 
go  myself,  but  I  can't  leave  the  boys  now." 

Slowly  the  cattle  felt  the  impetus  from  behind, 
and  began  to  move  forward.  The  voice  above 
shouted  a  second  waring.  Healy  answered  with  a 
derisive  yell.  Keller  again  stood  exposed  on  the 
ledge. 

Rifles  cracked. 

This  time  the  cattle  detective  was  firing  at  men 
and  not  at  horses,  and  they  in  turn  were  pumping 
at  him  fast  as  they  could  work  the  levers.  One  man 
went  down,  torn  through  and  through  by  a  rifle 
slug  in  his  vitals.  Healy's  horse  twitched  and  stag 
gered,  but  the  rider  was  unhurt.  The  officer  on  the 
ledge,  a  perfect  target,  was  the  heart  of  a  very  hail 
of  lead,  but  when  he  sank  again  to  cover  he  was  by 
some  miracle  still  unhurt. 


MAVERICKS  335 


"They'll  trv  a  flank  attack  next  time,"  Keller  told 
himself. 

Up  to  date  the  honors  were  easily  his.  He  had 
put  three  horses  out  of  commission  and  disabled  one 
of  the  outlaws  so  badly  that  he  would  prove  negligi 
ble  in  the  attack.  Peering  down,  he  could  see  Healy, 
with  superb  contempt  for  the  marksman  above, 
slowly  and  carefully  carry  his  wounded  comrade  to 
shelter.  The  other  men  were  already  driven  back 
to  cover.  The  cattle,  excited  by  the  firing,  were 
milling  round  and  round  uneasily. 

Healy  laid  the  wounded  man  down,  knelt  beside 
him,  and  gave  him  water  from  his  flask.  The  man 
was  plainly  hard  hit,  though  he  was  not  bleeding 
much. 

"Where  is  it,  Duke  ?  Can  I  do  anything  for  you, 
old  fellow?" 

The  dying  man  shook  his  head  and  whispered 
hoarsely:  "I've  got  mine,  Brill.  Shot  to  pieces. 
I'm  dying  right  now.  Get  out  while  you  can.  Don't 
mind  me." 

His  chief  swore  softly.  "We'll  get  him  right, 
'  Duke.  Brad's  after  him  now.  Buck  up,  old  pard. 
You'll  worry  through  yet." 

"Not  this  time,  Brill.  I've  played  rustler  once  too 
often." 

Keller,  far  up  on  the  precipice,  became  aware  of 
approaching  riders  long  before  the  outlaws  below 
could  see  them.  He  counted  eight — nine — ten  men, 


336  MAVERICKS 


still  black  dots  in  a  cloud  of  dust.     This  he  knew 
must  be  Phil's  posse. 

If  he  could  hold  the  rustlers  for  ten  minutes  more 
they  would  be  caught  like  rats  in  a  trap.  Once  or 
twice  he  glanced  behind  him  as  a  precaution  against 
some  one  of  the  enemy  climbing  Point  o'  Rocks 
from  the  defile,  but  he  gave  this  little  consideration. 
He  had  not  seen  Brad  when  he  disappeared  into  the 
mesquite,  and  he  supposed  all  of  the  rustlers  were 
still  in  the  Pass  five  hundred  feet  below  him. 

What  he  had  expected  was  that  they  would  force 
their  way  up  the  defile  for  a  quarter  of  a  mile  and 
strike  the  easy  trail  that  ran  from  the  rear  to  the 
top  of  the  Point.  He  wondered  that  this  had  not 
occurred  to  Healy. 

In  point  of  fact  it  had,  but  the  outlaw  leader  knew 
that  as  they  picked  their  way  among  the  broken 
boulders  of  the  gulch  bottom  the  enemy  would  have 
them  in  the  open  for  more  than  a  hundred  yards  of 
slow  going.  He  had  chosen  the  alternative  of  send 
ing  Brad  quietly  up  the  rough  face  of  the  cliff.  The 
other  plan  would  do  as  a  last  resource  if  this  failed. 

Healy  believed  that  his  enemy  had  been  delivered 
into  his  hands.  After  Keller  had  been  killed  they  | 
would  toss  his  body  down  into  the  Pass,  and  while 
his  companions  continued  the  drive  to  Mexico, 
Healy  would  return  to  get  help  for  Duke  and  spread 
the  story  he  wanted  to  get  out.  The  main  features 
of  that  tale  would  be  that  he  and  Duke  had  cut  their 


MAVERICKS  337 


trail  by  accident,  suspected  rustling,  and  followed  as 
far  as  the  Mimbres  Pass,  where  Keller  had  shot 
Duke  and  been  in  turn  shot  by  Healy. 

It  was  a  neat  plan,  and  one  that  would  have  been 
fairly  sure  of  success  but  for  one  unforeseen  con 
tingency — the  approach  of  Yeager's  posse  a  half 
hour  too  soon.  Healy  heard  them  coming,  knew  he 
was  trapped,  and  attempted  to  force  an  escape 
through  the  narrows  in  front  of  Point  o'  Rocks. 

The  milling  cattle  had  jammed  the  gateway. 
Keller,  shooting  down  one  or  two  of  them,  blocked 
the  exit  still  more.  Healy  and  his  confederates 
could  not  get  through,  and  turned  to  try  the  defile 
just  as  the  first  of  the  posse  came  flying  down  the 
Pass. 

Young  Sanderson  was  in  the  van,  a  hundred  yards 
in  front  of  Yeager,  dashing  over  the  uneven  ground 
in  a  reckless  haste  that  Jim's  slower  horse  could  not 
match.  Loose  shale  was  flying  from  his  pony's 
hoofs  as  it  pounded  forward.  The  outlaws  just 
beat  him  to  the  mouth  of  the  intersecting  gulch. 
Dragging  his  broncho  to  a  slithering  halt,  he  fired 
twice  at  the  retreating  men.  He  had  taken  no  time 
to  aim,  and  his  bullets  went  wild. 

Brill  laughed  in  mockery,  covered  him  deliberately 
with  his  rifle,  and  just  as  deliberately  raised  the  bar 
rel  and  fired  into  the  air.  The  distance  was  scarce 
a  hundred  yards.  Phil  could  not  doubt  that  his 
former  friend  had  purposely  spared  his  life.  The 
boy's  rifle  dropped  from  his  shoulder. 


338  MAVERICKS 


"Brill  wouldn't  shoot  at  me !  I  couldn't  kill  him !" 
he  shouted  to  Weaver,  as  the  latter  rode  up. 

Buck  nodded.  "Let  me  have  him!"  And  he 
plunged  into  the  gorge  after  the  men  that  had  dis 
appeared. 

Twice  Keller's  rifle  spat  at  Healy  and  his 
companion  as  they  plowed  forward  across  the  boul 
der  bed,  but  the  difficulty  of  shooting  from  far  above 
at  moving  figures  almost  directly  below  saved  the 
rustlers.  They  reached  a  thick  growth  of  aspens 
and  disappeared.  Healy  parted  company  with  his 
ally  at  the  place  where  the  trail  to  the  summit  of 
Point  o'  Rocks  led  up. 

"Break  south  when  you  get  out  of  the  gulch,  Sam. 
In  half  an  hour  it  will  be  night,  and  you'll  be  safe. 
So-long." 

"Where  you  going,  Brill  ?" 

"I'm  going  to  settle  accounts  with  that  dashed 
spy!"  answered  Healy,  with  an  epithet.  "Inside  of 
half  an  hour  either  Keller  or  I  will  be  down  and 
out!" 

The  outlaw  took  the  stiff  incline  leisurely,  for  he 
knew  Keller  could  come  down  only  this  way,  and  he 
had  no  mind  to  let  himself  get  so  breathed  as  to  dis 
turb  the  sureness  of  his  aim.  The  aspen  grove  ran 
like  a  forked  tongue  up  the  ridge  for  a  couple  of 
hundred  yards.  As  Healy  emerged  from  it  he  saw 
a  rider  just  disappearing  over  the  shoulder  of  the 
hill  in  front  of  him.  For  an  instant  he  had  an 
amazed  impression  that  the  figure  was  that  of  a 


MAVERICKS  339 


woman,  but  he  dismissed  this  as  absurd.  He  went 
the  more  cautiously,  for  he  now  knew  that  there 
would  be  two  for  him  to  deal  with  on  the  Point  in 
stead  of  one — unless  Brad  reached  the  scene  in  time 
to  assist  him. 

The  sound  of  a  shot  drifted  down  to  him,  fol 
lowed  presently  by  a  far,  faint  cry  of  terror.  What 
had  happened  was  this : 

Keller,  turning  away  from  the  overhanging  ledge 
from  which  he  had  seen  the  outlaws  vanish  into  the 
grove,  looked  down  the  long  slope  preliminary  to 
descending.  He  was  surprised  to  see  a  horse  and 
rider  halfway  between  him  and  the  aspen  tongue. 
To  him,  too,  there  came  a  swift  impression  that  it 
was  a  woman,  and  almost  at  once  something  in  the 
poise  of  the  gallant  figure  told  him  what  woman. 
His  heart  leaped  to  meet  her.  He  waved  a  hand 
and  broke  into  a  run. 

But  only  for  two  strides.  For  there  had  come  to 
him  a  warning.  He  swung  on  his  heel  and  waited. 
Again  he  heard  the  light  rumble  of  shale,  and  be 
fore  that  had  died  away  a  sinister  click.  Alert  in 
every  fiber,  his  gaze  swept  the  bluff — and  stopped 
when  it  met  a  pair  of  beady  eyes  peering  at  him 
over  the  edge  of  the  precipice. 

The  two  pair  of  eyes  fastened  for  what  seemed 
like  an  eternity,  but  could  have  been  no  longer  than 
four  ticks  of  a  clock.  Neither  of  the  men  spoke. 
The  outlaw  fired  first — wildly,  for  the  arm  which 
held  the  rifle  was  cramped  for  space.  Keller's  re- 


840  MAVERICKS 


volver  flashed  an  answer  which  tore  through  Irwin's 
teeth  and  went  out  beneath  his  ear.  With  a  furious 
oath  the  man  dropped  his  weapon  and  flung  himself 
upward  and  forward,  landing  in  a  heap  almost  at  the 
-feet  of  the  detective. 

"Don't  move!"  ordered  the  latter. 

Brad  writhed  forward  awkwardly,  knew  the  shock 
of  another  heavy  bullet  in  his  shoulder,  and  catching 
his  foe  by  the  legs  dragged  him  from  his  feet.  Kel 
ler's  revolver  was  jerked  over  the  edge  of  the  preci^ 
pice  as  he  let  go  of  it  to  close  with  the  burly  ruffian. 

Both  of  them  were  unarmed  save  for  the  weapons 
nature  had  given  them.  The  detailed  purpose  of  the 
struggle  defined  itself  at  once.  Irwin  meant  by  main 
strength  to  fling  the  detective  into  the  gulf  that  de 
scended  sheer  for  five  hundred  feet.  The  other 
fought  desperately  to  save  himself  by  dragging  his 
infuriated  antagonist  back  from  the  edge. 

They  grappled  in  silence,  save  for  the  heavy  pant 
ing  that  evidenced  the  tension  of  their  efforts.  Each 
tried  to  bear  the  other  to  the  ground,  to  establish  a 
grip  against  which  his  foe  would  be  helpless.  Now 
they  were  on  their  knees,  now  on  their  sides.  Over 
and  over  they  rolled,  first  one  and  then  the  other  on 
top,  shifting  so  fast  that  neither  could  clinch  any 
temporary  advantage. 

Yet  Keller,  with  a  flying  glance  at  the  cliff,  knew 
that  he  was  being  forced  nearer  the  gulf  by  sheer 
strength  of  muscle.  Irwin,  his  jaw  shattered  and  his 


MAVERICKS  341 


shoulder  torn,  was  not  fighting  to  win,  but  to  kill. 
He  cared  not  whether  he  himself  also  went  to  death. 
He  was  obsessed  by  the  old  primeval  lust  to  crush 
the  life  out  of  this  lusty  antagonist,  and  his  whole 
gigantic  force  was  concentrated  to  that  end.  He 
scarce  knew  that  he  was  wounded,  and  he  cared  not 
at  all.  Backward  and  forward  though  the  battle 
went,  on  the  whole  it  moved  jerkily  toward  the 
chasm. 

The  end  came  with  a  suddenness  of  which  Larra- 
bie  had  but  an  instant's  warning  in  the  swift  flare  of 
joy  that  lit  the  madman's  face.  His  foot,  searching 
for  a  brace  as  he  was  borne  back,  found  only  empty 
space.  Plunged  downward,  the  nester  clung  viselike 
to  the  man  above,  dragged  him  after,  and  by  the 
very  fury  of  Irwin's  assault  flung  him  far  out  into 
the  gulf  head-first. 

It  was  Phyl  Sanderson's  cry  of  horror  that  Healy 
heard.  She  had  put  her  horse  up  the  steep  at  a  head 
long  gallop,  had  seen  the  whole  furious  struggle  and 
the  tragic  end  of  it  that  witnessed  two  men  hurled 
over  the  precipice  into  space.  She  slipped  from  the 
saddle,  and  sank  dizzily  to  the  ground,  not  daring 
to  look  over  the  cliff  at  what  she  would  see  far  be 
low.  Waves  of  anguish  shot  through  her  and  shook 
her  very  being. 

A  man  bent  over  her,  and  gave  a  startled  cry. 

"My  heaven,  it's  Phyl!"  he  cried. 

"Yes."  She  spoke  in  a  flat,  lifeless  voice  he 
could  not  have  recognized  as  hers. 


342  MAVERICKS 


"Where  is  he?  What's  become  of  him?"  Healy 
demanded. 

She  told  him  with  a  gesture,  then  flung  herself  or? 
the  turf,  and  broke  down  helplessly.  The  outlaw 
went  to  the  edge  and  looked  over.  The  gulf  of  air 
told  no  story  except  the  obvious  one.  No  wingless 
living  creature  could  make  that  descent  without  for 
feiture  of  life.  He  stepped  back  to  the  girl  and 
touched  her  on  the  shoulder. 

"Come." 

She  looked  up,  shuddering,  and  asked,  "Where?" 

"With  me." 

"With  you?  It  was  you  that  drove  him  to  his 
death,  and  I  loved  him !" 

"Never  mind  that  now.    Come/' 

"I  hate  you!  I  should  kill  you  when  I  got  a 
chance!  Why  should  I  go  with  you?"  she  asked 
evenly. 

He  did  not  know  why.  He  had  no  definite  plan. 
All  he  knew  was  that  his  old  world  lay  in  ruins  at 
his  feet,  that  he  must  fly  through  the  night  like  a 
hunted  wolf,  and  that  the  girl  he  loved  was  beside 
him,  forever  free  from  the  rival  who  lay  crushed 
and  lifeless  at  the  foot  of  the  cliff.  He  could  not 
give  her  up  now.  He  would  not. 

The  old  savage  instinct  of  ownership  rose  strong 
in  him.  She  was  his.  He  had  won  her  by  the  for 
tune  of  war.  He  would  keep  her  against  all  comers 
so  long  as  he  had  life  to  fight.  Night  was  falling 
softly  over  the  hills.  They  would  go  forth  into  it 
together  to  a  new  heaven  and  a  new  earth. 


MAVERICKS  343 


He  lifted  her  to  her  feet  and  brought  up  her  horse. 
She  looked  at  him  in  a  silence  that  stripped  him  of 
his  dreams. 

"Come !"  he  said  again,  between  clenched  teeth. 

"Not  with  you.  I  don't  know  you.  Leave  me 
alone.  You  killed  him !  You're  a  murderer !" 

He  stretched  hands  toward  her,  but  she  shrank 
from  him,  still  in  the  dull  stupor  of  horror  that  was 
on  her  spirit. 

"Go  away!  Don't  touch  me!  You  and  your 
miscreants  killed  him!"  And  with  that  she  flung 
herself  down  again,  and  buried  her  face  from  the 
sight  of  him. 

He  waited  doggedly,  helpless  against  her  grief 
and  her  hatred  of  him,  but  none  the  less  determined 
to  take  her  with  him.  Across  the  border  he  would 
not  be  a  hunted  man  with  a  price  on  his  head.  They 
could  be  married  by  a  padre  in  Sonora,  and  per 
haps  some  day  he  would  make  her  love  him  and 
forget  this  man  that  had  come  between  them.  At 
all  events,  he  would  be  her  master  and  would  tie  her 
life  inextricably  to  his.  He  stooped  and  caught  her 
shoulder.  She  had  fainted. 

A  footfall  set  rolling  a  pebble.  He  looked  up 
quickly,  and  almost  of  its  own  volition,  as  it  seemed, 
the  rifle  leaped  to  both  of  his  hands.  A  man  stood 
looking  at  him  across  the  plateau  of  the  summit. 
He,  too,  held  a  rifle  ready  for  instant  action. 

"So  it's  you !"  Healy  cried  with  an  oath. 

"Have  you  killed  him  ?" 


MAVERICKS 


The  outlaw  lied,  with  swift,  unblazing  passion: 
"Yes,  Buck  Weaver,  and  tossed  his  body  to  the  buz 
zards.  Your  turn  now !" 

"Then  who  is  that  with  you  there  ?" 

"The  woman  you  love,  the  woman  that  turned 
i  you  and  him  down  for  me,"  taunted  his  rival. 
"After  I've  killed  you  we're  going  off  to  be  mar 
ried." 

"Only  a  coyote  would  stand  behind  a  woman's 
skirts  and  lie.  I  can't  kill  you  there,  and  you  know 
it." 

Healy  asked  nothing  better  than  an  even  break 
He  might  have  killed  with  impunity  from  where  he 
stood.  Yet  pantherlike,  he  swiftly  padded  six  paces 
to  the  left,  never  lifting  his  eyes  from  his  antagonist 

Buck  waited,  motionless.    "Are  you  ready?" 

The  outlaw's  weapon  flashed  to  the  level  and 
cracked.  Almost  simultaneously  the  other  answered. 
Weaver  felt  a  bullet  fan  his  cheek,  but  he  knew  that 
his  own  had  crashed  home. 

The  shock  of  it  swung  Healy  half  round.  The 
man  hung  in  silhouette  against  the  sky  line,  then  the 
body  plunged  to  the  turf  at  full  length.  Buck 
moved  forward  cautiously,  fearing  a  trick,  his  eyes 
fastened  on  the  other.  But  as  he  drew  nearer  he 
knew  it  was  no  ruse.  The  body  lay  supine  and  inert, 
as  lifeless  as  the  clay  upon  which  it  rested. 

Once  sure  of  this  Buck  turned  immediately  to 
Phyllis.  A  faint  crackling  of  bushes  stopped  him. 
He  waited,  his  eyes  fixed  on  the  edge  of  the  preci- 


THEY   GRAPPLED   IN   SILENCE    SAVE    FOTl    THE    HEAV'T    PYNTI.VO   THAT   EVIDENCED 
THE  TENSION  OF  THEIU   EFFOBTS. 

Page  340 


MAVERICKS  34S 


pice  from  which  the  sound  had  come.  Next  there 
came  to  him  the  slipping  of  displaced  rubble.  He 
was  all  eyes  and  ears,  tense  and  alert  in  every  pulse. 

From  out  of  the  gulf  a  hand  appeared  and  groped 
for  a  hold.  Weaver  stepped  noiselessly  to  the  edge 
and  looked  down.  A  torn  and  bleeding  face  looked 
up  into  his. 

"Good  heavens,  Keller !" 

Buck  was  on  his  knees  instantly.  He  caught  the 
ranger's  hand  with  both  of  his  and  dragged  him  up. 
The  rescued  man  sank  breathless  on  the  ground  and 
told  his  story  in  gasped  fragments. 

" — caught  on  a  ledge — hung  to  some  bushes 
growing  there — climbed  up — lay  still  when  Healy 
looked  over — a  near  thing — makes  me  sick  still!" 

"It  was  a  millionth  chance  that  saved  you — if  it 
was  a  chance." 

"Where's  Healy?" 

Weaver  pointed  to  the  body.  "We  fought  it  out. 
The  luck  was  with  me." 

A  faint,  glad,  terrified  little  cry  startled  them 
both.  Phyllis  was  staring  with  dilated  eyes  at  the 
man  restored  to  her  from  the  dead.  He  got  up  and 
walked  across  to  her  with  outstretched  hands. 

"My  little  girl." 

"Oh,    Larry!     I    don't    understand.     I    thought 

»» 

He  nodded.  "I  reckon  God  was  good  to  us, 
sweetheart." 

Her  arms  crept  up  and  round  his  neck.    "Oh,  boy 


346  MAVERICKS 


— boy — boy.  I  thought  you  were — I  thought  you 
were ." 

She  broke  down,  but  he  understood.  "Well,  I'm 
not,"  he  laughed  happily.  Catching  sight  of  Buck's 
grim,  set  face,  Larrabie  explained  what  scarce 
needed  an  explanation.  "You'll  have  to  excuse  us, 
I  reckon.  It's  my  day  for  congratulations." 

Phyllis  freed  herself  and  walked  across  to  her 
other  lover.  "My  friend,  I  know  the  answer  now," 
she  told  him. 

"I  see  you  do." 

"Don't — please  don't  be  hurt,"  she  begged.  "I 
have  to  care  for  him." 

The  hard,  leathery  face  softened.  "I  lose,  girl. 
But  who  told  you  I  was  a  bad  loser  ?  The  best  man 
wins.  I've  got  no  kick  to  register/'1 

"Not  the  best  man,"  Keller  corrected,  shaking 
hands  with  his  rival. 

Phyllis  summed  it  up  in  woman  fashion:  "My 
man,  whether  he  is  the  best  or  not.  It's  just  that  a 
girl  goes  where  her  heart  goes." 

Weaver  nodded.  "Good  enough.  Well,  I'll  be 
going.  I  expect  you'll  not  miss  me." 

He  turned  and  went  down  the  hill  alone.  At  the 
foot  of  it  he  met  Jim  Yeager. 

"What  about  Brill?"  the  younger  man  askea 
quickly. 

"He'll  never  rustle  another  cow,"  Buck  answered 
gravely.  "I  killed  him  on  the  top  of  Point  o'  Rocks 
after  an  even  break." 


MAVERICKS 


"Duke  has  cashed  in.  Game  to  the  last.  Wouldn't 
say  a  word  to  implicate  his  pals.  But  Tom  has  con 
fessed  everything.  The  boys  slipped  a  noose  over 
his  head,  and  he  came  through  right  away. 

"Says  he  and  Duke  and  Irwin  helped  Healy  rob 
the  Noches  Bank  and  do  a  lot  of  other  deviltry.  It 
was  just  like  Keller  figured.  The  automobile  was 
waiting  for  the  bunch  with  the  showfer,  and  took 
them  out  the  old  Fort  Lincoln  Road.  Dixon  knows 
where  the  gold  is  hidden,  and  is  going  to  show  the 
boys." 

"That  clears  up  everything,  then.  I  judge  we've 
made  a  pretty  thorough  gather/' 

Jim  looked  up  and  indistinctly  saw  the  lovers  com 
ing  slowly  down  through  the  grove.  Dusk  had  fallen 
and  soon  the  cloak  of  night  would  be  over  the 
mountains. 

"Who  is  that?" 

Buck  did  not  look  round.  "I  reckon  it's  Keller 
and  his  sweetheart.  She  followed  us  here." 

"I  told  her  not  to  come." 

"I  expect  she  takes  her  telling  from  Mr.  Keller." 
He  changed  the  subject  abruptly.  "We'll  go  on 
down  to  the  boys  and  see  what's  doing.  They'll  be 
some  glad,  I  shouldn't  wonder,  at  making  a  gather 
that  cleans  out  the  worst  bunch  of  cutthroats  and 
rustlers  in  the  Malpais.  Don't  you  reckon?" 

"I  reckon,"  answered  Yeager  briefly. 

THE  END 


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BANDIT  OF  HELL'S  BEND,  THE 
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TARZAN  AND  THE  ANT  MEN 
TARZAN  AND  THE  GOLDEN  LION 
TARZAN  THE  TERRIBLE 
TARZAN  THE  UNTAMED 


JUNGLE  TALES  OF  TARZAN 
AT  THE  EARTH'S  CORE 
THE  MUCKER 
A  PRINCESS  OF  MARS 
THE  GODS  OF  MARS 
THE  WARLORD  OF  MARS 
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THE  NOVELS  OF  TEMPLE  BAILEY 

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"  Although  my  ancestry  is  all  of  New  England,  I  was  born 
in  the  old  town  of  Petersburg,  Virginia.  I  went  later  to 
Richmond  and  finally  at  the  age  of  five  to  Washington,  D. 
C.,  returning  to  Richmond  for  a  few  years  in  a  girl's  school, 
which  was  picturesquely  quartered  in  General  Lee's* 
mansion. 

PEACOCK  FEATHERS 

The  eternal  conflict  between  wealth  and  love.  Jerry,  the  idealist  who 
is  poor,  loves  Mimi,  a  beautiful,  spoiled  society  girL 

THE  DIM  LANTERN 

The  romance  of  little  Jane  Barnes  who  is  loved  by  two 

THE  GAY  COCKADE 

Unusual  short  stones  where  Miss  Bailey  shows  her  keen  knowledge 
of  character  and  environment,  and  how  romance  comes  to  different  people. 

THE  TRUMPETER  SWAN 

Randy  Paine  comes  back  from  France  to  the  monotony  of  every-day 
affairs.  But  the  girl  he  loves  shows  him  the  beauty  in  the  common-place 

THE  TIN  SOLDIER 

A  man  who  wishes  to  serve  his  country,  but  is  bound  by  a  tie  he  can 
not  in  honor  break — that's  Deny.  A  girl  who  loves  him,  shares  his  humilia 
tion  and  helps  him  to  win — that's  Jean.  Their  love  is  the  story. 

MISTRESS  ANNE 

A  girl  in  Maryland  teaches  school,  and  believes  that  work  is  worthy 
service.  Two  men  come  to  the  little  community ;  one  is  weak,  the  other 
strong,  and  both  need  Anne. 

CONTRARY  MARY 

>          An  old-fashioned  love  story  that  is  nevertheless  modern. 

GLORY  OF  YOUTH 


A  novel  that  deals  with  a  question,  old  and  yet  ever  new — how  far 
should  an  engagement  of  marriage  bind  two  persons  who  discover  they  no 
longer  love. 

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RED  ASHES 

A  gripping  story  of  a  doctor  who  failed  in  a  crucial  opera 
tion—rand  had  only  himself  to  blame.  Could  the  woman  he  loved 
forgive  him? 

THE  BARBARIAN  LOVER 

A  love  story  based  on  the  creed  that  the  only  important  things 
between  birth  and  death  are  the  courage  to  face  life  and  the  love 
to  sweeten  it. 

THE  MOON  OUT  OF  REACH 

Nan  Davenant's  problem  is  one  that  many  a  girl  has  faced— 
her  own  happiness  or  her  father's  bond. 

THE  HOUSE  OF  DREAMS-CQME-TRUE 

How  a  man  and  a  woman  fulfilled  a  gypsy's  strange  prophecy. 

THE  HERMIT  OF  FAR  END 

How  love  made  its  way  into  a  walled-in  house  and  a  walled-in 
heart. 

THE  LAMP  OF  FATE 

The  story  of  a  woman  who  tried  to  take  all  and  give  nothing. 

THE  SPLENDID  FOLLY 

Do  you  believe  that  husbands  and  wives  should  have  no  se 
crets  from  each  other  ? 

THE  VISION  OF  DESIRE 

An  absorbing  romance  written  with  all  that  sense  of  feminine 
tenderness  that  has  given  the  novels  of  Margaret  Pedler  their 
universal  appeal. 


GROSSET  &  DUNLAP,    PUBLISHERS,  NEW  YORK 


RUBY  M.  AYRES'    NOVELS 

May  be  had  wherever  books  are  told.     Ask  for  Grosset  fc  Dunlap's  list 


THE  LITTL'ST  LOVER 


CANDLE  LIGHT 


THE  MAN  WITHOUT  A  HEART 


THE  ROMANCE  OF  A  ROGUE 


THE  MATHERSON  MARRIAGE 


RICHARD  CHATTERTON 


&  BACHELOR  HUSBAND 


THE  SCAR 


THE   MARRIAGE  OF   BARRY  WICKLOW 


THE  UPHILL  ROAD 


WINDS  OF  THE  WORLD 


THE  SECOND  HONEYMOON 


THE   PHANTOM  LOVER 


GROSSET  &  DUNLAP,  PUBLISHERS,   NEW  YORK 


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THE  UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  LIBRARY 


